Point Pleasant
by G.M. Lloyd
Summary: Set five years after the demon is killed. VERY Dean centered. Dean and Sam had found peace. They had found balance. They were happy. But Dean is forced to leave his beloved family after his brother’s mysterious disappearance in New York.
1. Busy Life

**Point Pleasant**

**Disclaimer: **I own a few characters... yay... Dean, Sammy and well... "Supernatural" ain't mine but you knew that already.

**Chapter 1 – Busy Life**

A sudden breeze. A tiny movement. Nothing could mean everything and everything nothing in the darkness of this forest.

Aware of this, Dean Winchester stood still, listening intently to anything that dared disrupt the silence of the night. He was hiding with his back against a tree, his gun tightly held in his right hand, feeling the presence of the creature close to him. Far too close.

The Canisolus was a small but incredibly fast creature, similar in its appearance to a dog, but it was hairless and its long white fangs were filled with a powerful poison it used to weaken its victims before it took a few bites at it and then abandoned its lifeless body on the ground. The creature could jump from tree to tree as easily as an ape and not surprisingly, if anyone saw the creature move and lived to tell, they would usually think they saw the Chupacabra.

Dean had found out this creature was responsible for countless deaths of small children, all of whom had been found with fatal bites all over their bodies. The reason for the hunter to refuse to leave the case in the hands of Wild Life was that although every corpse had been found in the same area of a forest near Point Pleasant, most of the victims came from elsewhere in West Virginia. No one could explain how a small child could have gone from one extreme of the state to the other on their own, and so Dean had decided to investigate.

He had been extremely well prepared and had managed to catch the creature off guard, but the shot had missed the heart and only injured its shoulder, the Canisolus being faster than his bullet. It had been Dean's only chance to overtake it and he had wasted it.

Dean knew how much trouble he had gotten himself into, but he couldn't back off now; it was too late. The Canisolus was probably watching him and ready to attack, no matter how well he hid, no matter how still he stood.

He assumed the attack would come from a certain height, since the Canisolus preferred jumping from branch to branch, so he kept his eyes focused on the trees around him, watching any move that would warn him of the presence of the creature.

Dean would have never anticipated what followed. He was so focused on seeing the creature that he didn't notice how cold the forest had become all of a sudden. He didn't notice the unnatural silence the absence of insects created. Dean never noticed its presence until it was already too late.

The Canisolus materialized two inches from his face out of thin air with a deafening screech.

Out of pure instinct, Dean covered his face with his left arm and aimed his gun with his right and fired. But as he shot the creature right in the heart, he felt the sharp pain its long fangs stimulated as they dug deep into his forearm.

The Canisolus' body was so light, it hung limply off Dean's arm, the fang never breaking. Carefully, the hunter pulled its head backwards with an expression of disgust in his face, and eventually got the fang out, making the wound start bleeding freely, and Dean let it. Although he knew he was already infected, the more poison got out of his body, the better. He examined the wound apprehensively.

The poison wasn't lethal, but it would be at least two weeks before he was completely cured of it.

But what worried him more at the moment wasn't the healing process or even the immediate weakness he felt from the poison. No. It was the fact that his wife was going to kill him.

* * *

Somehow, Dean managed to stumble back to his dark green 1999 Mitsubishi Montero. Not exactly his dear old 1967 Chevrolet Impala, but she had been damaged beyond repair more than five years ago. Besides, although he would never admit it, he found the larger all-terrain vehicle much more suited for rough terrain, not to mention the considerably less amount of money spent on gas. 

He was well aware that the last thing he should be doing right now was driving, but he had no choice. It wasn't a long drive anyway; his house was just outside of Point Pleasant, West Virginia; a twenty minute-long drive.

Just when his vision was becoming blurry, Dean entered his property. After a couple of years since he had started a small garage business that had grown hugely, he, with the support of his wife's own income, had been able to afford a colonial style house located in the middle of a large green garden adorned with flowers and neatly cut bushes.

Dean had never stopped hunting, even in the hardest moments of his independent business, but he did it less often and usually only in West Virginia, because leaving his family for days at a time like his father had done was a mistake he didn't want to repeat.

In fact, it had been during a gig that he had met Ignacia Rivera, a young woman of Mexican origin living in Charleston, West Virginia. Her father and her were being haunted by an angry poltergeist, and although it took Dean three exhausting days to get rid of it, he had done it in the end.

He had started planning his garage business the day he met her, never really knowing why until he realized his feelings for her: his mind had begun planning to settle down in West Virginia so that he could be with her way before he was conscious of it.

Dean and Ignacia were married about a year from that day and moved to the quieter city of Point Pleasant.

Nacha, as everyone called her, was a cheerful, generous and brave woman with curly dark brown hair that fell on her shoulders. She had wide brown eyes that always had a smile of their own, and long black eyelashes. Her naturally tanned skin always made her stand out in a crowd in this part of the United States, where Hispanics are rare. But Dean felt that she would stand out anywhere, even in Mexico itself because of her striking beauty.

And there she was, anxiously waiting for Dean sitting on a rocking chair in her nightgown. The moment she saw the car, she jumped up and ran to greet him, but her expression of relief turned into one of concern, as Dean took far too long to step out of the car.

"Hey, sweetie, why were you waiting out there, your date ditched ya?" he tried to joke, but Nacha became stone serious the moment she saw the amount of blood coming out of Dean's arm.

"In the house, now," she commanded, her usually gentle eyes now glaring furiously at Dean.

"Yes, sir - ma'am," he corrected with a quick shake of his head, which spun insanely, causing him a new wave of nausea. Sometimes his wife could sound strangely like his father, which half amused him and half scared him to death.

How he missed the old man.

John Winchester had passed away only a few seconds after the three of them managed to kill the demon, and although it had hurt Dean more than any wound, he could be sure his father had died in peace accomplishing his life-long mission and was now somewhere out there with Dean's mother at last.

He also missed Sammy, but that was a different story.

About a week after their father's death, Dean sat down with his brother for a serious talk. He could remember the exact words he had uttered that day, he had said: "Sam, I know you have your dreams, and I understand you want your normal life back so I want you to go back to Stanford and get it."

After much arguing, Sam had finally been convinced that Dean meant what he said and that he would be okay on his own. He promised to keep in touch and visit often and, thankfully for Dean, he had kept his promise.

Of course, the elder brother was far from okay at first. But Dean, although he didn't have Sam's psychic abilities, had foreseen how lonely he would feel and he had tried his best to be prepared to face his fears.

Because Dean's worst fear had always been to be alone. And it still was, and it would always be.

After helping Dean to their room on the second floor, Nacha cleaned and stitched the wound and finished by bandaging his arm carefully while her husband told her how the poison would probably manifest: fever, headaches, nausea and basically the symptoms of the common flu. Nothing to worry about.

"Dean," she said solemnly when he had stopped speaking, "I know we've had this conversation a million times, but I swear if you keep hunting you might not even be around for long enough to take Andrew to his first day of school."

"That's not gonna happen," he claimed and holding her face gently with his good hand, he looked at her straight in the eye. "I promise."

"You can't promise that, Dean," she said letting out a bitter chuckle. "Anyway…" she added sadly, "you should go to bed, you're burning up."

She kissed him lightly and stood up only to see a couple of wide green hazel eyes observing them from the door.

"Andrew! What are you doing here, honey, you should be in bed," said Nacha, but the two year-old boy had his eyes fixed on his father.

"Daddy!" he cried running towards him.

"Midget!" replied Dean in the same tone as his son, taking him in his arms.

Many would say that Andrew Winchester was an exact copy of his father. He had the same wide green hazel eyes and long eyelashes. His hair, although dark brown like his mother's, was straight and thin like Dean's. His facial features seemed to have been replicated off his father, but his skin had his mother's natural Hispanic tan.

"Daddy? Why you have 'zilly' thing on your arm?" he asked with the same lisp Sam had had at his age.

"Oh, 'cause all my friends had it and I wanted to fit in," Nacha laughed softly, but Andrew frowned.

"What you mean?"

Dean laughed, forgetting completely about the pain and fever as he played around with his son.

"Nothing, midget, let's get you back in bed." He held the boy close and winked reassuringly at his wife, who was gesturing at him to hand Andrew to her.

"Okay. 'Night, mommy!"

"Good night, sweetie."

Dean took his boy to the room next to theirs. Lovingly, he tugged Andrew in his youth bed and ruffled his hair playfully.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't 'zleep' now."

"'Course you do, midget, just close your eyes and sleep will come."

"But it don't want me 'zleep'!"

Dean suddenly grew serious and frowned, his eyes fixed on his son's.

"What doesn't want you to sleep, Andrew?"

"The 'clozet'! It making funny 'noizez'."

Dean froze momentarily, terrified of what could have happened if Andrew hadn't gone to their room when he did. He smiled warmly at the boy.

"Well, then, we gotta ask the closet to let you sleep, don't we?" Andrew nodded.

"Ztop making noizez, please, clozet," said the boy seriously and Dean chuckled, secretly wishing it could be that easy.

He stepped between his son and the closet and before opening it, he felt for the gun he always kept tugged in his jeans. He held it with his right hand, but didn't take it out, not wanting Andrew to see it.

When he had opened the doors, he found nothing, and he knew there was always the possibility of it actually being only his son's imagination or something that could be perfectly explained, but he didn't dare leave his son again.

"You sleep now and I'll stay here to make sure it doesn't make funny noises again, okay?"

"Okay, daddy."

He remembered putting the EMF meter in his jacket pocket in his previous hunt. Retrieving it, he pointed it at the closet and got no readings, but he knew very well that it didn't mean anything. Dean grabbed a chair and sat in front of the closet holding the small device.

His head was pounding and his body screamed for sleep, but he wouldn't take any chances. It would be a long, eventless night for the young father.

**A/N: Hey! Well this is the start to my new story. I'm really hoping you guys will like it. I couldn't remember how fluent two year-old kids are supposed to be but then I remembered I taught my little brother how to read when he was two so they have to be pretty good at talking lol... Your reviews would be seriously appreaciated so umm... please review? Anyway, thanks for reading!**

_**Random Note: **I thought of a little version of Jensen Ackles calling Dean 'daddy' and I was like "ok that's it - I need to write" lol!_


	2. Email and Departure

**Disclaimer: **If I actually owned Supernatural, I would SOOOO not be writing this... I'd kinda be doing it for real.

**Chapter 2 – Email and Departure**

"Dean, what are you doing?" whispered Nacha frowning at the sight of her husband sitting uncomfortably on a chair facing Andrew's closet two hours and a half later, while the boy slept peacefully in his bed. "I just woke up and realized you still hadn't come."

"He said he heard something in the closet, I just wanna make sure…"

Nacha smiled, sitting on Dean's lap and laying a hand on his forehead.

"Look, I know what's out there as much as you do, but from time to time there really is nothing there, Dean… and when I said you were burning up I meant it, now get back to bed."

"If nothing happens in two hours, I'll go back. You go without me – you need to rest 'cause you've got about a million pages to translate tomorrow."

"Hey, how did _you _know about that?"

"You said your deadline was on the 27 of May and you always do all the work a day before the due date-"

"I do _not_!" she defended raising her voice out of pure surprise at having been found out.

"Shhh!" hissed Dean laughing lightly, "You're gonna wake him up. Go back to bed I'll be there soon, I swear."

Nacha sighed shaking her head.

"At least let me get you a Panadol…"

Thirty minutes passed and Dean still sat motionless waiting for a sign. His eyelids burned and they became heavier by the second. He was about to give up when he heard it.

It sounded like laughter. Evil, unusual and otherworldly laughter.

Checking out the EMF meter, he realized he was still getting absolutely no readings. His brow crinkled in confusion as he stood up cautiously, taking one step towards the closet.

And as he discovered the source of the noise, Dean wanted to cry.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

It was one of Andrew's toys. A dysfunctional little plastic man that was supposed to laugh when you pressed its belly, but that now did it on its own from time to time. Dean supposed something must have been pulled loose inside the toy, which explained its strange behavior and the mysterious, but no so supernatural noises coming from the closet.

Three hours he had wasted fighting urges to throw up and trying not to think of the warm bed that awaited him and all he got was a toy.

But at least he was sure Andrew would be safe.

Dean walked slowly towards his room and saw Nacha sitting on the bed covered up to her waist in the bed sheets and reading a book. He held the toy high for her to see.

"Our ghost," he said simply.

"Nice one, hunter, now get in here before I have to tie you up until you're healthy again."

Dean gladly obeyed and before his head touched the pillow he was already fast asleep.

* * *

"Daddy! Fi-day!" 

Dean woke up to a major headache as little Andrew shoved his shoulder from side to side.

"What?" he asked sleepily. He glanced at his watch. 7.15am. He groaned and turned to the other side of the bed for salvation from his son, but Nacha wasn't there.

"Fi-day! Uncle Sammy write today!"

"It's Friday already?"

His brother Sam had made it a habit to email Dean every Friday morning before he left to the office. He had been working in one of the best firms in New York for a couple of years now and seemed to be enjoying life with a young woman named Kirsten Ryan, whom he had met shortly after moving to the city.

Dean had made the mistake of deciding to read Sam's first email out loud to his boy and Andrew had liked the new activity so much that now the little blessing woke Dean up every Friday at 7.30 at the latest to go together to read Sam's news.

At that moment Nacha entered the room still in her nightgown holding a tray. Dean could smell eggs, bacon and coffee, but it only made him want to throw up again.

"Thanks, Nacha, but I really don't think my stomach can deal with that right now-"

"Oh this ain't for you," she said with a smirk, "the nice stuff is for me. All you get is this," she said passing him a plate with a couple of toasts covered in some sort of jam. Although not as attractive, he found the food didn't make him sick and he could actually eat it. "By the way, I called the garage, told them you wouldn't go for about a week."

"You're such a secretary!" teased Dean unexpectedly. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"That's it, I'm not doing you any favors ever again."

"Sure…" he said kissing her cheek as she sat next to him on their bed.

"I'm serious – Andrew, come here, honey, I've got you breakfast too."

"But Uncle Sammy write!" he repeated starting to lose his patience.

"I know, but we're all gonna have breakfast first, okay?" Andrew frowned and comically crossed his arms over his chest.

"I've got your favorite today… it's peach!" she said showing him the little flask containing the baby food.

The boy's eyes widened and he cuddled up in his mother's arms to let her feed him, email and Uncle Sammy forgotten for the moment.

A few minutes later the three of them walked downstairs and into the study where Nacha usually spent hours translating one text or another. The room was basically a small library with hundreds of books in different languages, but Spanish and English texts being the most common. A small, very out of the way section of the room contained a few books about the paranormal, including John Winchester's old journal and another Dean had started writing himself after his father died.

At the far end of the room there was a small desk illuminated by the sunlight that filtered through the large window it faced. There were a few dictionaries on it neatly lined up next to a computer.

Dean sat in front of it and accessed his email account. Five new emails. Three, he quickly deleted, noticing they were junk mail and the other two were from a couple of customers at the garage. Nothing from Sammy.

"That's odd…"

"What is?" asked Nacha approaching a chair to sit down with Andrew on her lap.

"Looks like he didn't write today."

"That _is _odd."

"Read, daddy!" cried Andrew suddenly.

"Sorry, midget, Uncle Sammy didn't write today."

"But Fi-day! Uncle Sammy '_alwayz_' write Fi-day."

"Yeah, maybe he'll write later, don't worry."

But Dean checked again after showering and taking a much needed hour-long nap and still nothing. He wouldn't have worried, but it was true that Sam _always _wrote on Fridays. No matter where he was or what he was doing, even when he was seriously busy he always managed to send at least a short message saying, "I'll write to you later today, everything's fine. Sam." But Dean got nothing today. He checked his inbox capacity, but it shouldn't have been a problem since he had about 200MB of free space.

Knowing he was being overprotective, he went back to his room and pressed the second speed-dial button on the list, which was Sam's mobile phone. He waited for him to answer but no one ever did and all he got was his voice mail. He tried a few more times but still nothing.

His second option was his office number.

"_This is Wachtell, Lipton, Rosen & Katz(1) law firm, how can I help you?_"

"Hey, Miranda, it's Dean Winchester, can I talk to my brother or is he busy?" he asked recognizing Sam's secretary's voice.

"_Oh, good day, Mr. Winchester. Sorry, he didn't come in this morning. We've tried to call him all day but he's not picking up._"

"What? You've tried his home number?"

"_Home number, cell phone number, pager, fax and email, sir._"

"What about his girlfriend? A uh… Kirsten Ryan, did you try her?"

"_Yes, sir, but we can't localize her either._"

"Right. Thanks, Miranda. Call me if you hear from him, okay? You have my number."

"_Yes, sir, I will. Have a good day, Mr. Winchester._"

But Dean was already running down the stairs at top speed. Nacha saw him as she walked out of the study putting on his brown leather jacket, which he usually saved for hunts only.

"Dean? What do you think you're-" but she stopped at seeing the anxiety in her husband's feverish eyes.

"I gotta go to New York, Nacha, something's happened to Sam," he explained hurriedly as he threw whatever weapon he found into a duffle bag.

"Okay, Dean, just stop for a second, okay? Just stop," she said grabbing his arm. "Why are you so sure, what happened?"

"He didn't turn up to work today and they've tried every way to localize him but still can't find him. Something's happened to him, I know it," he finished and resumed packing up.

Nacha stared at him bewildered, lost for words. As much as she understood how much Dean cared for his brother, naturally, for her Dean's life was much more important and at her present state she just couldn't understand how her husband could just leave her because his all-grown-up brother wasn't answering his phone.

Dean suddenly stopped what he was doing and finally paid attention to Nacha. Reading her eyes, he did his best to smile confidently.

"Hey, it will be fine, I promise. I'll be back in a couple of days, okay?" she didn't even flinch. "Look, I'm sorry… I know I've been a pain in the ass lately, but this is my brother… you know I've protected him since-"

"Oh, alright! I hate it when you play that card on me, you know? At least say good bye to _your son_ before you go."

He walked up to Andrew's room and she followed him, her head low hiding her fear. As Dean entered the room, she stopped at the doorframe and watched them.

"Hey, midget, what are you doing?" he asked watching his son looking at the pictures in a wordless rubber book.

"Reading," he answered without looking at him, imitating Dean's concentrated frown he unconsciously adopted when reading the newspaper. Dean smiled recognizing the expression and kneeled next to him.

"Look, I don't mean to interrupt your reading, sir, but daddy's gotta go."

Andrew looked up from the toy mirroring Dean's hazel green eyes at him.

"Where?"

"To help Uncle Sammy."

"I go too!"

"No, not this time, midget. You stay with mommy and take care of her, okay?"

"Okay!" he said happily liking the new responsibility given to him.

"That's ma boy. I'll see ya soon, okay?"

He pulled his son towards him and kissed his forehead. Reluctantly, he stood up and turned to go.

"Daddy?" the voice stopped him. "Don't wear that jacket."

Dean laughed wondering where that had come from.

"Why not, midget?"

"When you wear that jacket you get hurt and you can't play with me ''cauze' you're 'alwayz' 'zleeping.'"

**A/N: Sad little chapter ending there... thank you so much for all those reviews! And thanks for telling me about how fluent kids are at two, apparently I got it just about right lol... I had also asked my mom and she said my older brother wasn't just fluent at two, but also he could actually read small words (he had a lisp though, just like little Andrew lol!), which is why I decided to teach my little brother too and it worked... it's amazing how much little kids can learn.**

_**Random Note**: What ever happened to that hard core home-made EMF meter Dean had in the plane episode? And also, what about that seriously cool gadget he had when he was dressed as a priest? You know the one with the green laser things?_

_(1)This is an actual law firm in New York, one of the best, in fact... just in case you didn't/wanted to know._


	3. Choices

**Disclaimer: **There are two sexy-looking disclaimers in chapters 1 and 2, so if you want to check them out, knock yourself out. But I warn you, they are some sexy disclaimers.

**Chapter 3 – Choices**

Andrew's words struck Dean hard in the heart. He was shocked to find tears forming in his eyes and he blinked them away.

He heard Nacha let out a sob and listened to her footsteps as she hurried away from their son's room. Dean had frozen on the spot, but managed to pull Andrew into a tight hug.

The kid was so young, and he already knew. Dean thought he was too young to understand, but his boy already knew how badly a person could get hurt, having to see his father in this condition more than just a few times. He knew there were things out there that could cause more than a common cold. He knew things no two year-old should know. And it was all Dean's fault. Was he making the same mistakes his father had before him?

Dean and Nacha had never dreamed of telling their son about what existed out there and they weren't going to change their minds any time soon. Dean had spent most of his life watching the fear in Sammy's eyes since the day their father told him monsters were real, and so the day his own son was born he swore he would never, ever, let him know that terror. But today, both parents had painfully realized how impossible it would be to hide it forever.

As he held his son, Dean made one of the most important decisions he had made in his life. He promised to himself something he thought he would never do, something that five minutes ago he would have dismissed without thinking.

Letting go of Andrew, he walked firmly down the corridor back to his room where he found Nacha crying softly, sitting on their bed looking at a picture that showed her own radiant smile as she held their newborn baby on a hospital bed and Dean standing behind her, holding the baby's tiny hand with one of his own and holding his wife's with the other one, his gentle hazel green eyes that looked purely green with the sunlight that shone in his face were lovingly fixed on the baby's sleeping face.

"He's right, you know that?" she asked without looking up from the picture. "Most times when you wear that jacket you get hurt," her lips curled into a tiny humorless smile, "I can't believe he noticed before either of us… I guess that's because he doesn't know what you're doing when you wear it… he only sees you put on that jacket and come back home hurt. Dean," she added looking up with angry eyes, "I don't want a picture to be the only memory he has of-"

"Ignacia…" he said weakly. The defeated and exhausted tone combined with the use of her first name was enough to leave the words hanging. "I'm never gonna hunt again."

"What?"

"After I'm sure Sam's okay, I swear to God I'll never hunt again in my life."

Her eyes softened watching the turmoil obscuring her husband's face and she slowly walked over to him.

"Dean… are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely."

A couple of tears slid down her face as her eyes smiled gratefully.

"Thank you so much," she said hugging him.

"Oh, but if they come bug us I'll have to kill the sons of bitches though, so the books and weapons stay where they are."

"Dean…"

* * *

Dean drove as fast as the car would allow him, making a minimum number of stops for gas. Only once he stopped for a few minutes to take a couple of painkillers and something for the fever and then kept going. 

He made it to New York in twelve hours, booked a room in a Sheraton hotel located near his brother's office and forced himself to sleep until the sun rose again. The little amount of sleep he got was restless, though, clouded with nightmares where some creature was attacking whoever it could get its hands on, creating chaos and confusion in a city that only existent in his mind. And all he could think of was finding Sammy and get him out of there before the creature found him. He had to make his way through a panicking crowd that ran the opposite way, indicating him that the creature was coming, but he needed to find Sam before he could run too…

And then he would wake up breathing heavily as if he had actually been running for his life, or rather his brother's life.

Dean hated that nightmare. He had it every night he fell asleep uneasily. For the past two years it had been Nacha and Andrew he had to save in his sleep, and it terrorized him more than he could possibly say when he wasn't able to find them in the crowd. Before they had come to his life, the nightmares had been about Sam, exactly as it had been tonight, for longer than he could remember. Dean supposed the nightmares had started the night his mother died. The night he had been entrusted with Sammy's life.

After taking another tablet for the fever, he took a shower to get rid of the cold sweat that seemed to always cover his feverish body these days and dressed as quickly as possible, before leaving the hotel room. He walked down for a quick breakfast that came included with the rest of the hotel bill and planned his day.

First, he would go to the law firm and ask around who had seen him last. He would track down that person and question them, which would surely give him a lead and hopefully let him know what he was dealing with as he would normally do in any other gig, in order to begin the research to be able to follow whatever had taken Sam and his girlfriend away.

About that research, he would start it now to get work done in advance. There was no point in going to Sam's office at the moment because most of the workers didn't get there until eight and it was now six in the morning, his worry and nervousness not having let him get any more hours of sleep.

Dean started the research as he would normally do, going to the library and checking out resent mysterious disappearances – he avoided looking for 'deaths' – and any paranormal creature or ghost that might inhabit a certain area in New York City. He had already assumed that no human had taken part in this. Sam was too good for that; it had to be something out of another world. But he found nothing in New York that had any relevance to what he was looking for. And he remembered the Benders had been human, crazy at that, but human nonetheless and they had been able to capture Sam… He quickly made a mental note to ask around if Sam Winchester had any enemies or rivals; maybe a member of another highly ranked firm or maybe some lawyer's client whose future Sam might have ruined by winning his case.

Before he knew it, it was already eight. He made his way to the tall and elegant building in 51 West 52nd Street.

The lobby had impressed him the first time he had crossed the automatic glass doors. It was a spacious room with a marble floor and walls. The high ceiling was adorned by large chandeliers that lit up the massive room.(1) To Dean, the place looked more like the lobby of a fancy five-stars hotel than anything else, and often teased Sam saying that the younger brother was actually working as an elevator operator, but didn't want anyone to know.

Dean would usually take his time, like every other visitor who wasn't used to these surroundings to absorb in the luxury of the place but today there was no time for that. As soon as the doors allowed him in he strode directly to the counter, where a man about his age smiled politely at him.

Dean had learned the hard way that for these people to take him seriously, he had to look like he could afford to get their attention. He had dressed in a suit he had bought only for visiting his brother's office, which so far had only happened twice. Therefore, the suit looked new and Dean was certain he was looking like one of _them_. His confident stride at entering the building and lack of appreciation for the expensiveness around him must have helped too.

"Good morning, sir, can I help you?" asked the receptionist, the practiced smile still plastered on his face.

"Yes, I need to contact Samuel Winchester immediately, please."

"Of course, one moment. May I have your name, please?"

"Dean Winchester, his brother."

The man took the phone next to him and pressed three.

"Connect me with Mr. Winchester, please, his brother is looking for him," he said after a moment. He listened to the answer he got back and covered the phone with his hand before looking up at Dean again.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Winchester hasn't come in yet. Would you like me to leave a message?"

"No, no… could I possibly talk to his secretary? It's urgent," he said impatiently, fighting an irresistible urge to wipe the fake smile out of the man's face with a well-placed punch. His temperature was rising again and the strong stomachache was making him far less tolerant than usual. He quickly wiped the cold sweat off his forehead.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Fine! Can I talk to the secretary please?" The last thing he needed right now was phatic talk. Couldn't these people understand his brother was missing?

"Of course," said the man taken aback, "fourth floor, second door to the left."

"Thank you."

Dean made his way determinedly in that direction and he had hardly knocked when he had already opened the door, without waiting for an answer. He found Miranda sitting at her desk typing furiously, so concentrated that it seemed as if she had been there all night. But no matter how focused, she was still Sam's efficient secretary and as she saw Dean enter, she turned her full attention to him.

"Mr. Winchester?"

"Miranda, have you heard from Sam yet?"

"N-no," she said a little taken aback by Dean's shaken appearance, but quickly regained her composure. "Mr. Winchester… no one… no one has seen him since Thursday night. Your brother and Ms. Ryan were reported missing this morning. I am very sorry, sir."

Dean tried to ignore the words and instead he focused on his mission.

"Do you know when he was last seen?"

"All I know is that he left to a conference on Thursday at 12.30pm in the NYSTLA(2). I've got his timetable in my computer, see?" she said turning the screen for him to confirm the time and place of the conference. "We haven't heard from him since."

"Can I see a list of the people who were with him in that conference?"

* * *

Three hours later, Dean drove his car towards the thirty-fifth and very last address in the list. Nothing had helped him so far. All the answers he got from the participants of the conference led him nowhere. 

"_Sorry, no idea, all I wanted to do after the meeting was to get home. I didn't see when Sam Winchester left at all."_

"_Sam? He _went_ to that conference? No way!"_

"_Nope, I dunno where he could have gone, sorry."_

"_If Sammy had enemies or rivals? Look, son, the boy surely knows his stuff and he's won most of his cases, but no one could ever hold a grudge against that kid. Hell, I bet he won half of those cases just by giving the judge that innocent look of his in his final statement!"_

At least the last man he had questioned, an elderly lawyer residing in Manhattan, had made him a little more certain that a human wasn't the captor, but he still couldn't be sure. He prayed as hard as he could for the very last man, to have some real answers for him. Looking at the address again, he realized he knew the man. In fact, Dean had befriended him during his last visit to New York City. He was one of Sam's close friends so if someone knew something, he probably would.

As he drove, he nervously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and he noticed his hands were shaking and sweating. All he wanted was for this to be over soon so that he could go back home to his wife, his son and his garage.

And no more hunting for the rest of his life.

**A/N: Again, thanks so much for all the reviews! I still find it hard to believe that people take their time to actually read something I wrote LOL! So thank you sooo much! Anyway, I was asked a couple of times why Andrew was eating baby food lol, well, sometimes little kids stick to the baby fruit-flavored things for longer but only for like breakfast or dessert, just because they still like it so why bother changing it. Anyway… all the reviewers who said they like Andrew I'm afraid you're gonna start missing the little guy for quite a few chapters, while all the action is centered in NY but no worries, cuz he's coming back later with an important part to play.**

_**Random Note: **I'm sort of going insane here cuz both my awesome series ("Desperate Housewives" and "Supernatural") are over! I just can't wait for the next season, damn it!_

_(1) The description of this law firm came off the top of my head. I've absolutely no idea what it actually looks like lol! However, the address I gave is real… you know just in case you can't resist the temptation of visiting a building full of lawyers lol!_

_(2)NYSTLA: New York State Trial Lawyers Association_


	4. Symptoms

**Disclaimer:** Your disclaimer's so fat that when they wrote it, it like… yeah…

**Chapter 4 - Symptoms**

"Actually, before Sam left the NYSTLA building I invited him and Kirsten over to dinner."

"Did they… did they not make it?" asked Dean, all hope leaving him now. He was sitting in the living room of a large house belonging to a lawyer named Alex McQuail. He was a tall black man in his mid-thirties with what seemed to be a constant look of concern and anxiety in his dark brown eyes.

Dean had met him in his previous visit to New York, since Sam and him were quite close friends. Dean had taken a like to him immediately, and after a few beers with him and Sam they were all best friends. However, at the moment he couldn't care less who he was talking to, as long as the man had the answers Dean so desperately needed.

Alex seemed a little confused by Dean's question, and he shook his head.

"No, they did, they did." Dean's glazed eyes seemed to revive a little with newfound hope. "But uh… I think something happened to him before we even had a chance to sit at the dining table. But dude, I was actually gonna give you a call, I thought you would know about this."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well he got a call on his cell phone and said it was from you, but he kept getting only static, he said. After that he looked anxious throughout dinner and Kirsten didn't seem to understand what was going on any more than I did."

Dean's heart was pounding as he listened to the man.

He hadn't phoned Sam in two weeks.

Now he was sure whatever had Sam was definitely not human and it knew about the Winchesters. It knew Sam would always come for Dean if he were in trouble.

"Then his phone rang again and this time he got through 'cause when he came back in the room he grabbed the poor girl and pretty much ran out of the house. And I haven't seen him since," he finished sadly.

"Did he say anything else? Did he say where he was going?"

"I was hoping you would know, man, you were the one who called both times!"

"So he didn't say anything?"

"Actually, I heard him say to Kirsten as he went out that they had to get to Averill Park. I went there myself after Miranda called to ask me if I knew where he was, but there was nothing there. Did they never actually get to the park?"

"What? Oh, uh, no they didn't that's why I got worried in the first place," invented Dean. "Alright. Thanks, man." He stood up, but his knees failed him and he ended up back on the seat.

"Man, are you okay?" asked Alex concerned, standing up to help him. "You look as pale as a ghost, do you want anything?"

"I'm fine… just… long day, you know?"

"C'mon, I'll drive you back to your hotel. Where did you say you were staying?"

"Dude, relax, I can drive."

"I don't think so, not now. Which hotel, Dean?"

"Sheraton," he mumbled.

"52nd Street?"

"Yeah."

Dean allowed his friend to take him back, but he wouldn't lose a moment. After falsely promising to rest, he rushed to the hotel computer room and looked for anything he could find to do with Averill Park. After looking for a few minutes he found a small article that caught his eye.

Apparently, a girl had drowned in a pond behind Averill Park High School about four years ago and since then people had reported glowing lights behind the forest line and also feeling a presence at the limits of the high school grounds. There was nothing there about people disappearing if they approached the place though, in fact, it seemed to be a passive, friendly ghost.

Frustrated, he sighed and turned off the computer. Dean figured there was no point in going out now unless he wanted to pass out in the middle of the road and get himself killed without accomplishing anything.

Dean forced his body through the lobby and up the elevator. He entered his room not bothering to turn on the lights even though it was starting to get dark and looked for the box of Panadols. He sat on his bed and sighed again, swallowing the tablets and taking his mobile phone in his hand to check for missed calls. He had two. Both from Nacha.

He smiled slightly and pressed the button to call back. At once, he heard his wife's sweet and beloved voice.

"_Hello?_"

"Hey there!"

"_Dean! Nice of you to check in._"

"Yeah, sorry I've been busy. How are you? How's the midget?"

"_We're doing good,_ _though Andrew insists on following me absolutely everywhere 'cause you told him to take care of me… So you got anything?_"

"I think I've got a lead, actually," he replied laughing. "Remember Alex McQuail?"

"_Yeah?_"

"He saw them the night they disappeared and apparently before they left, Sam had said _I_ called him from Averill Park."

"_You're kidding,_" she said understanding what that meant.

"Yeah, I think we got an angry ghost that lured him there but I can't get why."

"_What do you mean?_"

"The ghost seemed to be a passive one, it had never attacked before. Plus, how the hell did it know to imitate _me_? How did it even know about me?"

The line went dead. His phone had turned itself off and as much as Dean tried to turn it on, it was useless. He remembered the battery had been low before.

"Son of a bitch," he said aloud.

Dean shivered involuntarily and lay down on the bed wrapping his arms around his torso against the cold, too tired to even get under the covers and knowing that if he did, he would get too hot. What was it with this hotel and air conditioner? He was freezing from head to toe but deep down he knew the hotel had nothing to do with it. It was the fever that he didn't want to blame because accepting that it weakened him could only make him feel helpless. But it was so cold… way too cold for him to stand it.

He tried to shift his weight to open the bed and somehow pull the covers over him but his body was suddenly too heavy and he couldn't move a muscle. The cold was increasing unnaturally and there was nothing he could do.

What the hell was going on? He was a hundred percent positive that the Canisolus' poison wasn't fatal. Then, what was happening to him? Maybe there were facts about the creature he had never known. Was the poison paralyzing him? Maybe he should have investigated more before going on the hunt. Maybe he should have listened to his wife earlier. Maybe he should have stopped hunting the moment Andrew was born; the moment he had gained something to lose.

He closed his eyes, not that he could see anything before, and thought of Andrew and Nacha. His heart felt heavy and broken.

He would never see them again.

**A/N: Hey again! Thanks again for the reviews; you guys are so nice lol! Bit of a short one there but I promise the real action starts on the next chapter, which I've already written. Your comments are obviously extremely appreciated so keep 'em up, you hot hot babes! Thank you so much for reading.**

_**Random Note: **Oh wow. I had no idea Jensen Ackles wore glasses. And he looks damn hot wearing them too lol… but pretty boy just **has** to wear contacts doesn't he…_


	5. The Visit

**Disclaimer:** I honestly don't know why I even bother…

**Chapter 5 – The Visit**

Dean felt that familiar feeling of being watched. The kind of feeling he would get in a haunted building, or late at night in an open space or a forest.

Suddenly, he understood. Because of the poison he hadn't been able to recognize the signs; it was, after all, unusually cold. Supernaturally cold.

He couldn't move, but it wasn't as if he was too weak to move; it was as if he had been tied to the bed by invisible ropes. The room had gone dark, not because he was losing his sight but because whatever was stalking him had made it dark. He mentally slapped himself for falling for it and believing he was dying.

But if he didn't do something he _would_ end up dead.

He tried to reach under the pillow for his knife, but his arms didn't even shake with the effort, as if he had been turned into stone. He also tried to turn around to face whatever was watching him, but again he had no luck.

Dean found himself being thrown roughly against the wall and held there by an invisible force, and he could finally face the entity.

It was clearly the spirit of a young girl. Her white rotten skin had turned slightly purple and her light blue dress looked damp and ragged. Noticing this, Dean realized its body was probably drowned: it was the ghost of Averill Park.

He couldn't see her face, for her head hung limply, her ginger hair covering one side of her face and shadowing the other one. All he could see there was a shining red eye.

The girl slowly raised her head revealing a grossly mutilated face, fury evident in every scar, in every bruise, but especially in those shiny crimson eyes, which Dean now realized were that color because they were covered in her own blood.

"**_FIX IT!_**" she screamed not even opening her mouth. _How can I? _Thought Dean, for a moment forgetting that this ghost was already far too angry to let him out of the room alive. Not to mention fix anything. _How could I possibly fix it? _It was obvious by the appearance of the girl's deformed face that she had been murdered. Tortured and eventually murdered in her own school. It had been no accidental drowning.

But what's done is done and Dean could do nothing to take it back. Perhaps if he burned the bones, but that wouldn't actually _fix_ it. Pinned against the wall as he was, Dean did nothing but stare pitifully into those red eyes.

"**_IT WANTS YOU! FIX IT!_**"

_It wants me? Well, that doesn't make sense. What's this chick talking about? _

Enraged at Dean's blank face, the spirit kept repeating the words 'why won't it leave me alone?' as it sent the bedside lamp flying and smashed it against Dean colliding with his shoulder with inhuman strength. Dean let out a groan and instinctively screwed up his eyes at the pain. When he opened them again, he saw that the spirit was about to throw the glass-made bottle of water courtesy of the hotel straight at his head. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with the ghost, refusing to let it see his fear.

The bottle was sent flying across the room and Dean tilted his head to the side closing his eyes waiting for the crash. But the impact never came.

Opening his eyes again, Dean was startled to see the bottle mere inches from his face, suspended in the air. He looked up at the ghost that still hovered at the feet of his bed, and saw that the girl's expression had turned into one of terror. Her eyes were fixed somewhere above and in front of her, something that wasn't there or that was invisible to Dean's eyes.

"**_No… leave me alone… leave me alone… LEAVE ME ALONE!_**" the unnaturally loud and otherworldly scream hurt Dean's ears as it began fading away with the girl until there was no sign of a ghost or noise of a scream. The bottle suddenly dropped to the ground shattering, pieces of glass flying everywhere at the same time as Dean fell hard on his back with a sickening thud. Dean was grateful for the soundproof walls.

Breathing hard, he sat up with his back against the bedside table. There was shattered glass from the bottle and ceramic from the lamp spread all over the room. A few shreds had incrusted in his arms and legs, but he didn't feel them. He didn't even notice them. Dean was far more concerned about what had just happened; about the girl's words and her strange behavior, as if something was haunting _her_.

At least now he knew that Averill Park was the right place to go. Whatever the girl was talking about, something had disturbed her peace and whatever that was had probably taken Sam. All he knew is that he had to get to that high school. Feeling more relieved at knowing what to do next, he allowed himself to examine his own physical state.

His left shoulder was a bloody mess. Large pieces of ceramic were still firmly attached to it, some deeper than others. Not to mention the amount of bruising the impact the lamp had on his shoulder would cause later. His legs had been attacked by glass but the shreds weren't too big and they seemed to only have made small scratches.

Patiently, he removed every piece of broken material off his body and cleaned his shoulder the best he could with a piece of his shirt. Thankfully, it had looked worse than it was, the wounds being smaller than the amount of blood had made them appear, but his shoulder wouldn't be the same in a while, he thought as he practiced moving his arm, but at least it had only been bruised and nothing more.

Dean finally stood up laying a hand against his forehead and supporting his weight on the bedside table at the dizziness he felt from the sudden movement. He walked to the bathroom and kneeling in front of the toilet, he threw up the little amount of food he had managed to eat that day and he wiped his fevered brow exhausted. He would have given almost anything to stay in that hotel room and sleep for another two weeks non-stop and then somehow wake up in his bed next to Nacha and his little boy waking him up.

But Dean had work to do.

* * *

The silhouette of a large building extended in the distance as Dean drove towards a forested area of Averill. He didn't know what to expect, or where to look first. Sam and Kirsten could be inside the school or anywhere on the immense grounds.

He parked the car at a safe distance from the building, at the end of the school grounds and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Dean forced himself to think and tried to stop the panic building up inside him by breathing deeply a few times before he decided what to do. The most obvious place to start looking would be the area around the pond where the girl had drowned. Or at least, if he didn't find them there, hopefully there would be some sort of clue.

He opened the trunk of his car, took out a flashlight and unloaded the heavy duffel bag off everything except for two shotguns loaded with rock-salt, – that girl wouldn't catch him off guard twice – his trusted knife, which he usually kept under the pillow, some lighter fluid in case he found the girl's bones and a pistol loaded with real bullets.

Dean switched on the flashlight and walked across the lawn but instead of going in the direction of the school entrance, he bordered the building heading to the back of the place. He stared up at Averill Park High School with wary eyes. All the lights inside the building were off, and the antiquity, the size and the isolation of the building gave it a threatening look that made Dean shudder.

He looked back down and focused on the pond straight ahead. Around him, crickets sang, frogs croaked and there was a light cold breeze that gently pushed leaves and branches in the same direction. But he noticed that the pond seemed to be part of another world. No branch belonging to the trees around the pond moved, not even the slightest sound came from the area and the water in the pond was as still as a corpse.

Dean grabbed hold of one of his shotguns.

With practiced grace he approached the pond step by step, one foot after the other making no sound whatsoever, his entire body hidden by the shadows of the school, as he moved close to its walls.

There was something about the pond that hypnotized Dean. He was convinced he had to hurry to be able to look at it closely, or else that magical effect that emerged from its waters would be gone. Only a few more steps and he would be there.

Dean felt exposed as he left the protection the school walls offered. He left the building behind and kept going completely uncovered, knowing full well it was a stupid idea, but there was no other way to get to his destination.

Now he could see with detail the black water and the stillness of everything around the pond. There were no animals, no insects, nothing. In fact, Dean seemed to be the only living being approaching that pond in months. The trees around it that he had seen from the distance he now noticed were dead; all their leaves were dry and their trunks were starting to rot.

Two more steps and he would be at the edge of the water.

He could see something in its depths. There was something white floating just below the surface. Dean cocked his shotgun and walked carefully all the while aiming at the thing in the water. He took the last hesitant step, the gun firmly held in place.

The first thing he saw was long black hair and purely white skin limply floating in the water. He realized it was a girl.

"Oh, crap," he muttered. Dean knew the girl was probably already dead, but he wouldn't leave her there. He dropped his shotgun and kneeled at the edge of the pond. Extending his arms toward her, he reached under her armpits to try and pull her towards him.

Dean never made it.

The corpse suddenly looked up with those crimson eyes he had first seen only hours ago. Her face was bruised and mutilated and her hair was suddenly ginger again. With unnatural strength she grabbed Dean's forearm and pulled him towards her.

Anticipating the movements but unable to do anything about it, Dean did the only thing that came to his mind. Before the freezing water invaded his every limb he took a deep breath. Even when he was completely submerged, the ghost still pulled him headfirst deep underwater and there was nothing Dean could do to stop her. He struggled as hard as he could, but human strength was nothing against an angry spirit. And soon he realized he was going to need his strength to actually keep himself alive. He did his best to look up and realized it was just as dark up there as down here. Even if the spirit let him go, he doubted he would ever make it to the surface. _How deep is this freakin' thing?_ He found himself thinking, as the ghost still guided him God-knows-where. He was starting to have trouble to hold his breath. He had been over two minutes underwater and his lungs were screaming for air.

After another thirty seconds his human instincts got the better of him. He couldn't help the agonizing reflex of sucking in gulp after gulp of freezing water, his body expecting to receive the air it so urgently needed and never actually getting it. For the second time that day he thought of Nacha and Andrew and he longed to see them one last time. He thought of Sammy. Who would rescue his baby brother now?

He felt something like a painful electric current go through his body and before consciousness slipped away, he saw with blurry eyes the girl was pointing at something yellowish that lay on the ground hidden amongst the rocks at the bottom of the pond. Human bones.

Finally understanding what the poor girl wanted, he closed his eyes, willing the pain to stop. The reflex of inhaling and exhaling stopped completely, as if having given up the hope of ever finding air, leaving his lungs full of unwelcome water. His body convulsed one last time, but Dean didn't feel the shock this time. Dean didn't feel anything anymore.

**A/N: Ah, how I love a Dean in pain… or unconscious… or suffering… yeah I know I sound kinda twisted… but hey you're reading the story! Lol… anyway thanks again so much for the reviews! By the way from now on I might not update as regularly cuz I haven't written chapter 6 completely yet, which means I haven't written anything else from this point on lol… so please bear with me but I promise I'll finish this story. Any comment is still extremely appreciated, so I'd love to read more reviews :)**

_**Random Note:** I seem to love water as a sort of death symbol… first it was a lake (in my other story "Angels Born on Earth") now it's a pond… my next story will have like a bucket of piss or something that will totally attract Dean into its depths… Please don't take that seriously :)_


	6. The Rescue

**Disclaimer: **The rejection, refusal, or renunciation of a claim, power or property.

**Chapter 6 – The Rescue**

"C'mon, man, wake up! Dean, please… please don't do this to me…" said a shaky voice coming from very far away. He tried to answer but he didn't know how. In this world, in this darkness, Dean had no voice, no body and no senses to reply with. The voice kept shouting and Dean wanted to answer but he simply couldn't.

Until all he heard was one little plead.

"Dean, please, it's Sam!"

He opened his eyes a little as he began coughing out what seemed to be tons of water out of his abused lungs and desperately breathing in the air his body had missed so much. Although his vision was blurry, there was no doubt to whom that mop of dark shaggy hair belonged.

"Dean? Thank God… Dean you scared the hell out of me!"

Sam.

"Sa-Sammy! How… where- Sam… are-are you okay?" Dean managed to choke out, but his little brother had turned him on his side to help him get rid of the offensive water. The only reason Dean allowed him to do it was because he didn't have the strength to stop him. As much as he tried to move, his heavy limbs were refusing to respond, so he lay there waiting to recover some energy before bombarding his brother with questions one more time.

"Everything's okay now, Dean, don't worry," Sam said soothingly. "We need to get you out of here," he added urgently more to himself and looked over his shoulder.

"Kirsten?" Sam called gently at the woman who stood behind him, her gray eyes puffy and slightly red as if she had been crying. In fact, fresh tears still streamed down her petrified face. Sam understood the tears only too well. He had been unable to find a pulse or even the ghost of a breath coming from his brother for exactly 36 eternal seconds.

Sam's girlfriend was a tall and slim woman with long straight light brown hair that fell freely down to the small of her back, but that was usually neatly tied up in a ponytail. Her skin was as white as a porcelain doll, although her face had turned slightly pink because of the constant sobs.

"Kirsten, don't worry, we'll be back in town before you know it. Just wait a little bit longer, okay?"

She shook off her fear and looked at Sam determinately.

"Sam, you have to get him out of those wet clothes, we could use our jackets to keep him warm-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, I'm a married man, Kiki and I believe you're in a relationship with my little brother here, I mean… Sam and Nacha wouldn't be very impressed," joked Dean, finally finding the strength to sit up. The couple let out a relieved chuckle. "And ah… I think I'll survive in these clothes, thanks."

"Oh my God… We found you floating there and we thought… Dean, are you okay?" she said kneeling next to him and hugging his shoulders affectionately.

"_Me_? – In case you haven't noticed you two have been missing for like two days, what the hell happened? You guys aren't hurt or anything, right?"

"No… Dean, about that, we have to talk but we gotta get outta here right now. If I'm right, the spirit of that girl should let us go but the _other_-"

"Wait, Sam, the bones… the girl's bones… they are at the bottom of the pond, we gotta find them and burn them before we go," he said wondering how the hell they were going to get the bones out. His little trip to the bottom of the lake was definitely something he refused to repeat.

"No, Dean, we can get back to that later now we have to go and finish this before it's too late."

"What are you talking about, Sam?" he asked angrily. He hated not knowing what was going on and he hated even more the fact that Sam had saved him when it was Dean who was supposed to save Sam.

"Look, I don't have time to explain now, let's go to your car and we'll talk on the way, okay?"

"Huh? Where are we going?" he asked as Sam impatiently helped him to a standing position.

"To Point Pleasant."

"**Huh**?"

"Kirsten, I'll drop you off at home, okay? I need you to tell the firm that we're fine… say I'm sick and you were taking care of me or something… just make up anything, alright?

"Yeah, okay."

Dean looked incredulously at his brother, but he knew he wouldn't get anything else out of him until they got to the car.

Sam chose that moment to slide his arm under Dean's left shoulder to pull him up, catching the injured man off guard. He cried out at the pain that went through his shoulder and involuntarily jerked it away.

"Dude, what's wrong?" asked Sam taking a step back and raising his hands in front of him as if to indicate that he wasn't going to hurt Dean.

"Nothing… I had a little encounter with our bitch of a friend before I came."

"Let me take a look at your shoulder…" he approached Dean but again the eldest Winchester stepped away.

"Look, man, you just said there's no time so let's just go, okay?" but Sam had already focused all his attention on his older brother and noticed how weak and sick Dean actually looked. Yes, he had just almost drowned, but it seemed to be more than that. More carefully this time, Sam and Kirsten helped him walk back the way he had come half walking and half running towards the car, trying to get away from the haunted place as soon as possible.

"Dean, you look like crap, what-?"

"It's nothing Sammy… oh, wait I just kinda drowned back there, that's all… not sure if that counts though…"

"I'm serious, Dean, you're far too warm but you're shivering like a… like a freaking ringing phone or something-"

"Shivering like a 'ringing phone'?" Dean laughed at the absurdity. "Sam what the hell kind of comparison is that? I think you've been in New York for way too long-"

"Dean!"

"Alright, alright, it's Canisolus poison, happy?"

"You hunted one of those bastards on your own?"

"No, Sammy, Andrew was there all the way, kicking ass – what do you think? There aren't many of _us_ out there in case you haven't noticed."

Dean hadn't realized how much he was relying on Sam and Kirsten to keep walking. As the car came to his blurry field of vision, he distractedly tried to think if he had ever felt so exhausted in his entire life. The days after the electrocution so many years ago came to mind. Shaking the memory away, other random memories crossed his fuzzy mind, some making him laugh, while most made him shudder. At this point he had no idea where he was or how he was moving but the numbness was somehow extremely comforting.

And so Dean never noticed that they had stopped moving. He never noticed that Sam had walked away a couple of steps uttering a worried, 'what was that noise?' before leaving Dean to the care of his girlfriend while he investigated their surroundings. Dean never heard the huge tree behind him crack loudly, even though the weather couldn't have been finer and the tree couldn't have looked stronger only seconds before.

But his mind regained all focus miraculously when Kirsten and him were violently thrown on the ground a couple of feet away from where they had stood. This was followed by a loud thud and the sound of branches brushing against the ground and each other. Dean could feel a heavy weight on top of him. Had the tree fallen on them? No, it was far too light for a tree; it felt more like a body.

Turning his head was enough to understand what had just happened: the immense tree lay broken exactly were Kirsten and Dean had been standing only moments before. Sam had probably foreseen what would happen and had pushed both out of the way right before the tree collapsed completely, therefore falling on top of his brother and girlfriend.

Sam stood up quickly and helped Kirsten and Dean up. The first hugged him tightly, but almost immediately went back to steady Dean.

"Oh my God, Sam, what the hell was that?"

Dean, on the other hand, smirked at Sam cockily.

"If you wanted a hug, you could have just asked nicely," he said, as Kirsten did her best to keep him on his feet, which he noticed, seemed to have turned into rubber.

"Saved your ass!" said Sam grinning, recognizing the comment as being Dean's way of saying 'thank you'.

"Whatever."

"**What _was_ that**?" repeated Kirsten, this time demanding an answer.

"I think it's the thing that's controlling the girl… we can't fight it now, c'mon we have to run, the car's over there!" Sam pointed at Dean's Montero before turning to help Kirsten walk Dean to the vehicle.

Because Dean was the only one of the three who wasn't really doing anything, he noticed a dark shape fly fast with enormous wings from a tall tree right next to the one that had just fallen, to the roof of the school, disappearing from their view since they were standing directly below it, only a few inches from the wall.

As soon as the thing touched the roof, a tile came loose. Before Dean could even warn the others about what he had just seen, the tile was falling fast with all intention of hitting Sam's head. Since his little brother had seen nothing, he was completely unaware of the silent threat and Dean panicked. Time seemed to have slowed down as he watched the heavy material approach his head.

Running on pure adrenaline, he grabbed Sam's shoulders tightly with both hands and pulled the younger but heavier man towards him with all his remaining strength. He let out a breath he didn't notice ever holding as he heard more than saw the tile hit the ground and break into a thousand pieces that flew everywhere as if to show the force of gravity in all its might. Fortunately, the tile wasn't big enough and most of its pieces flew low and didn't reach any of them.

Dean felt his left shoulder burn from the movement and effort, as adrenaline began abandoning him only too quickly. The fever and exhaustion blinded him and suddenly his firm legs became fragile noodles again. Unable to support his own weight his knees bent and only Sam's strong grasp prevented him from falling hard on the ground.

"Let's get the hell out of here," muttered Sam, gulping at the sight of what had been so close to crack his head open. He shifted Dean as well as he could over his shoulder and headed straight to the car.

* * *

"So, do you wanna tell me what happened to you and Kirsten?" 

Sam jumped in surprise on the driver's seat. For half an hour he had driven, dropped Kirsten at their apartment and carried on with Dean still out cold on the back seat. Deep in his own thoughts, Sam hadn't noticed that his big brother had woken up and was now leaning heavily with his good arm on the back of Sam's seat, like an impatient child wanting to know if they were 'there yet'.

"Dean! When did you wake up-?"

"Just now... so?"

"Well… I thought you called me from Averill… you said you were hunting something and you needed help straight away so I came…"

"Yeah, Alex McQuail told me about that… I guess you figured it wasn't me once you got there. Wait and you brought your girlfriend with you?"

"No, man, that's the thing. I was gonna take Kirsten home first but something happened… the roads were blocked; a cop told us there had been some sort of accident and the only way was through Averill. I didn't think anything of it, but when we were passing right in front of the school, the car sort of died. After that all I remember is waking up in the attic of the school. Oh and the freaky-looking dead girl."

"So how did you break free anyway… which, by the way, made me feel like a total retard for coming all the way here."

"Actually, you distracted the girl just in time. She was getting seriously frustrated and kept saying that 'it won't leave her alone,' whatever 'it' is. She started shouting and things started floating around her-"

"Dude, that sounds like _'Carrie'_!"

"-and she was about to throw everything at us in some kind of… nervous breakdown, when she saw you through the window. And then she was just gone."

"Just like that? She left you guys alone?"

"Yeah, I also thought it was too careless, but then I think this girl's being forced to do this against her will-"

"-or she has some serious PMS problems… but seriously, I get it, she just seems to want to be free. Plus she was a peaceful ghost before, and she just started attacking well… us."

"But why us?"

"Well, I dunno, but when sexy school-girl went to visit me in the hotel, she said 'it' wanted me." Sam's heart skipped a beat and tensed for a second before swallowing and relaxing again. The action didn't go unnoticed and Dean knew Sam was keeping something from him. "Which reminds me, why the hell are we going to Point Pleasant?"

"If it wants you… Dean… I think I know what this thing is and why it's after you. We have to get to Nacha and Andrew before it's too late."

**A/N: Okaaay, sorry about the delay, it took me a while to manage to get so much information in one chapter in a sort of… wannabe-entertaining way lol… thanks so much for your reviews! When I was stuck I went back to read them and felt encouraged and managed to write again lol cuz you guys are too nice! I mean what's the catch- you guys gonna throw some random online scarecrow at me?**

**_Random Note:_ **_Wait that'd be sorta cool… I think there's potential for a new story there – Sam turns on his computer and is attacked by an online monster… love it. Ahh so many good ideas... with the bucket of piss and the online monster, I think I should write a freaking movie script, it would so be my ticket to fame._


	7. Just Like Old Times

**Disclaimer: **I claim that I dis.

**Chapter 7 – Just Like Old Times**

"What the hell are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam looked at the rear view mirror to find Dean's piercing hazel green eyes fixed on him dangerously under a deep frown. His heavy breathing had adopted a menacing quality, more like an angry bull about to attack than a sick man weakened by a long day of work. He had spoken frighteningly calm, in a very low tone and his question had sounded more like a statement.

Sam had never been afraid of his brother and never would be, but when Dean's loved ones were in danger, he switched to sergeant-mode and his commanding tone simply demanded obedience without question. Sam never defied this or resented it like he had his father's expectations to do as told, because whenever Dean expected to be obeyed, he had good and immediate reasons. The last time his brother had behaved like this had been when the demon's subjects had kidnapped their father, but he had gone back to normal right after they had found him, before they knew John was possessed. Dean had been upset about having killed a man, but he was no longer all action and no answers, because the immediate problem had been solved.

"Dean… this thing, I think it's the Mothman," he said, eyes on the road, but still nervously aware of Dean's glare.

"Man, what are you talking about?" Dean asked again, although he sounded more relieved. "Sam, we killed that bastard years ago, me and dad, and I'm pretty sure we did; there've been no more attacks or sightings reported since then. Plus, it doesn't even make sense- the Mothman's from Point Pleasant, why would it be in New York?"

"Look, I dunno, but the way it attacked… it manipulated objects to cause something that might look like a normal accident… and before the tree fell, I saw something… just for a second though it was tall, had wings… didn't see much more though… besides…"

"Besides what?"

"Nothing, never mind."

"Sam, how did you jump to the conclusion that it's the Mothman? Lots of things cause disasters, it could be anything for all we know."

"Yeah," admitted Sam with a smile that couldn't even fool his very sick older brother. "You're right, we should probably-"

"How did you even know we're supposed to go to Point Pleasant? Why do you think my family's in danger?"

Sam kept staring at the road that extended in front of him. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Damn it, Sam this is my wife and son we're talking about!"

"Okay," he breathed out, as if those words had been the key to let out the truth. "I… Dean, while Kirsten and I were locked in that school, I had a… a vision."

The little color left in Dean's face faded quickly at those words. He rested his pounding head on the back of the seat and tried to digest this new piece of information. A few years back, he would have almost taken it as a normal thing, alarming, but normal for their more than abnormal lives.

But Sam hadn't had a vision or a dream since they had killed the demon.

_We'll worry about that later. Take it one step at a time, _thought Dean trying to calm down his breathing.

"What… what did you see, Sammy?"

"This Mothman… Dean, it isn't the same one you killed- it's more powerful and much older. Probably a relative or something and it wants revenge. It lured you all the way to New York manipulating that spirit so that it would have easy access to…"

"No… Sam that's not gonna happen, d'you understand me? I'm not gonna let that happen," he claimed, but he felt incredibly useless, sitting on the backseat of his own car, unable to do anything but wait until they got to Point Pleasant, which was hours away. The Mothman could already be there and who knew how long it would take to… _no way… just don't think about it, don't think, God damn it._

"Okay," said Sam, trying to change the direction of the conversation. "So, how exactly did you and dad kill it last time?"

"Chopping its head off… and yes, it was freakin' hard to manage to actually keep it still long enough to do it."

"Any special weapon?"

"The machetes seemed to do the trick last time."

"Kinda like vampires, huh?"

"Hm."

Silence. Dean forced himself to close his eyes in the hope that Sam might think he had fallen asleep. Sam said nothing, respecting his brother's anxiety. It was the kind of situation where his big brother would dismiss anything he said before even listening and honestly, he had no idea what to say to comfort him. And so they went on in silence.

"Hey, Sammy?"

The tiny whisper that came from the backseat caught him by surprise, but he was glad Dean had volunteered to talk. A 'hey, Sam' always meant serious talk, and Sam wouldn't let the chance go.

"Yeah?" he asked gently, also in a whisper as if anything louder would make Dean regret letting Sam into his thoughts.

"I have the worst feeling about this… something's not right… man I'm…" he let out a sort of small, forced chuckle, embarrassed of what he was about to say.

"Dean, what is it?"

"I'm scared shitless, Sam, I dunno why, it's just… damn it…"

"Dean, listen to me, they'll be just fine, alright?" he tried to console, but Sam began feeling uneasy just by Dean's choice of words. Although Dean liked keeping up the appearance of a 'bad-boy' he never actually swore further than his trademark 'son of a bitch.' Using any other swearword was rare, and it meant Dean was probably being more serious than Sam could ever want him to be. Also, the fact that he had admitted to be scared made him deeply uneasy.

"Dean," he said again in the most soothing voice he could muster. "Of course you're scared, don't be surprised if you're more scared than you've ever been before, because you've never _been_ in this situation before. They are the people you love the most, of course you are freaking out. But that doesn't mean something's gonna happen to them, okay? All I'm saying is what you're feeling is normal… okay?"

Dean sighed and Sam saw his reflection in the mirror nod before closing his eyes, this time appearing to fall into a genuine but restless sleep.

"I'm glad you're here, Sammy," he said almost inaudibly, his eyes still closed, but the ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Just like old times."

"Just like old times, big brother," he said smiling, also glad to be going after an 'evil son of a bitch' with Dean again. The feeling surprised him; he never thought he'd be glad to be doing this again, but in a way it didn't surprise him at all.

Spending time with his older brother was an experience no one and nothing had ever been able to replace. Even visiting him in Point Pleasant had never been quite the same as being just the two of them. Because there was an unexplainable connection between them that could only be exploited when they were on their own. Maybe it was because it had been just Dean and Sam their entire lives, or maybe because that connection was something so private that it couldn't be shown in front of other people. Whichever it was, all Sam knew is that he couldn't help but miss those endless hours in Dean's old Impala on the way to a new job, listening to classic rock, eating junk food and being as much of a pain in the ass as Dean himself was most of the time. And although there wouldn't be much joking and music on this ride, or any kind of food at all, and although the car wasn't exactly the dear old Impala, it was still the most comforting feeling to be on the road with Dean again.

"Sam," said his older brother suddenly wide awake, snapping Sam out of his thoughts, "Sam, stop the car."

"Dean, what is it? You saw something?" Sam asked as he pulled the car to the side of the road.

Dean didn't respond and as soon as the car made a complete stop, he rushed out of it and dropped to his knees, vomiting yet again. He found himself wondering what the hell he could possibly be throwing up, since his stomach was more than empty.

He had been trying to stop the urge since he had woken up in the car and finally couldn't do it any longer. Dean hated the fact that he was wasting precious time they desperately needed to get to Point Pleasant, and so as soon as he was done he wiped his mouth unceremoniously and tried to stand up on shaky legs.

Sam was there to support him, as he knew he would, and Dean didn't have the strength to stop him. Instead, he concentrated his energy in taking deep breaths and trying to stop his exhausted body from shaking.

"God, Dean, you scared the crap out of me… I thought you had seen the thing-"

"Hey, couldn't do it in the car… the upholstery, you know?"

"Ah… the uphol-" he began shaking his head, "you're such a jerk."

"'Fraid so…" suddenly he tried to stand up on his own, succeeding at last. "I just did it to steal the wheel," he said and determinedly walked towards the driver's seat.

"Yeah sure, and that pile of puke over there was invented too, huh?" but he realized his brother was already starting up the car. "Dean! Don't, you can't even… alright, fine, but when your car gets screwed up 'cause you crashed it after you passed out or something, it will only be your fault."

"Hey you comin' or what?" he asked grinning. Sam rolled his eyes as he shook his head, but walked to the other side of the car, just as Dean turned on the radio. _Spirit of Radio _by Rush started playing at full volume and Sam glared at his brother.

"Rush? You kiddin' me? Still?"

"What? Dude, they're CD's now!"

Sam laughed lightly, secretly enjoying the sudden change of mood. It was as if Dean had read his mind; everything was as it used to be. His big brother sang loudly to the music as he drove down the highway and he, Sam, sat next to him helping out with a map, trying to make himself heard above the music and discussing the plan of action, which they still hadn't come up with.

Apart from the fact that this car was definitely not the Impala, it was just like old times, and they were both glad they had got to do this again even after all the changes that had taken place in their lives.

**A/N: Yes, I know it's short and crap even thought I made you wait more than usual for the update so I'm very sorry for the disappointment. But this chapter was sort of a necessary transition and transition chapters are always a bitch to write, cuz like you need them but they aren't exciting. Anyway, thanks sooo much for your awesome reviews! You guys rule I swear… so keep them coming I'd love to know what you guys think of what I'm writing. :)**

**WARNING: **Oh wow, watch it! This is new, I had never written warnings before like OMG! Lol anyway, all I wanted to warn you about is that** FROM HERE ON YOU WILL FIND SOME UGLY SURPRISES IN THE REST OF THE STORY, IT WILL GET SERIOUSLY TRAGIC, AND WHEN I SAY SERIOUSLY, I MEAN IT! SO IF YOU ARE EXPECTING A TOTALLY HAPPY ENDING YOU'RE NOT GOING TO FIND IT HERE. I WOULD STRONGLY ADVISE TO STOP READING IF YOU HATE SAD/UNEXPECTED/UNCONVENTIONAL ENDINGS. **

_**Random Note: **My children, you have been warned. Now do what your heart tells you. If you want my opinion, I'd say what the hell, just read on if you're already into it lol! But then I wrote this and I want you to read it, so I wouldn't trust my advise if I were you hehh…._


	8. Nightmares Are Real

**Disclaimer: **I think Dean and Sam's next fake ID on the show should say DISCLAIMER – sounds like a professional title, doesn't it? Lol well maybe not…

**WARNING: **I'm really repeating what I said before here, but it's just that – **I CANNOT POSSIBLY EMPHASIZE ENOUGH HOW ANGSTY THIS WILL BE! READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISK**; don't say I didn't warn you lol…I am actually scared of posting this chapter…

**Chapter 8 – Nightmares Are Real**

Smoke was rising high and thick in the distance, spreading dark fumes everywhere, and Dean couldn't help noticing that the smoke was turning the peaceful blue of the sky into hopeless black. Why did hope have to die so fast?

As Dean drove the familiar way back home he noticed they were coming closer to the smoke, or was the smoke extending towards them?

He drove numbly, his mind blank. He slowed down the car, preparing for the red light that came inevitably in his way and stared out the window at the children talking and playing happily on a big yellow bus, obviously on their way to school. Smiling absently, he imagined Andrew on that bus a few years later, enjoying the ride with little friends, messing around and annoying the hell out of the bus driver.

Dean would make sure his son got the normal and safe life Sammy had always dreamed of. That he himself had always dreamed of as a small child. But that didn't matter now. That had never mattered. And it had certainly rarely mattered to him as he grew up; there was no time for dreaming when Sammy needed him so much.

The light turned green and he went on, his mind still blank. He refused to believe that smoke was coming from anywhere near his home and therefore, he was calm. Sam hadn't said a word since the smoke had made itself visible to the Winchester brothers, but that didn't mean anything. Dean's mind was blank.

Sam kept throwing nervous glances at Dean, expecting him to freak out, clench his fists, shout angrily at Sam or anything whatsoever to express his fear, except for what he was actually witnessing: Dean seemed calmer than ever, looking mildly interested at the smoke and then turning his head towards a bus that stopped next to them in front of the red traffic light.

His hazel green eyes turned distractedly back to the street as red switched to green and Dean drove on, again eyeing the smoke, almost stupidly casually. Sam wondered if the fever could be making his brother act so strangely, but he dismissed it. He had been around a sick Dean for years before he went to Stanford and all fever ever did to him was make him even more of a pain in the ass than he normally was.

And then it hit him.

Denial. Dean was determinedly denying the fact that the smoke that rose in the air was coming from his property. Sam became more and more aware of this as their destination appeared to have become that dark cloud, because it seemed to have the same address as Dean.

They were so close now, that the origin of the smoke was painfully obvious. And still his older brother hadn't said a word. His face was blank, expressionless and unreadable, just like his mind.

All of a sudden, Dean stopped the car in the middle of the road. Not that it mattered; hardly anyone drove around here anyway, since the oldest Winchester still preferred his privacy and so his land was a little out of town.

He got off, and walked on unsteady feet the rest of the way. Sam followed, but didn't dare try to help him. He didn't even dare say a word. He kept himself near his brother in case he was needed, but other than that he made no interference with his brother's intentions.

Dean crossed the main gates, looked around at the scene that hit him hard in the face, but he walked on, as cold and empty as a stone. There seemed to be an entire rescue team of police cars and ambulances parked messily in front of the house, some ruining the front lawn and the once healthy little plants. _Nacha's gonna have their asses. _That was the only thought that crossed his mind, and quickly vanished leaving his mind empty again.

He absently glanced at the remains that used to be his beautiful home. Behind the commotion of cars and loud voices and shouts, only a gross black skeleton of stone was left, the rest of her having been burned away into ashes.

It would be okay. Dean would take Nacha and Andrew to live with Sam for a while and he would fix this mess in the mean time. After all, the insurance company would pay for the loss and although they would probably have to live a little less comfortably than before for a short period of time, it would be okay. There would be time to get back in track.

"I'm sorry but you can't go in there," said a voice, bringing him back to the present.

"What… what happened?" asked a tiny terrified voice next to him. Only then he realized Sam had followed him out of the car. Why did he look so scared? Didn't he know it would be fine? Sometimes Sammy worried too much. He'd laugh at him about it later. Now he had work to do.

"I'm the owner of this property," said Dean flatly, no sign of any kind of emotion in his voice.

"You… are you Mr. Dean Winchester?" asked the police officer, his tone having softened dramatically at Dean's words.

"I am. Does my wife know what happened? Actually, I'd like to speak to her, do you know where she is?"

The officer said nothing. He looked down at the floor and Dean heard Sam stop breathing. What was wrong with that kid today? It wasn't like him to be all jumpy for no reason. Dean on the other hand, waited patiently for the man to reply.

"Sir… there was… there was an electric storm in the area last night…"

"Look, as much as I love the incredibly exciting headlines this town's papers have, I really don't have time for this right now-" Dean tried to walk past the officer. He was making him waste his time. All he wanted to do was see his family, why couldn't some people understand that? And again the man blocked his way, and eyed him pitifully.

Dean hated being pitied. There was nothing that could possibly annoy him more than that. He wished the man would stop giving him that look. He wished the man would stop looking at him. There was no reason to pity him, no reason whatsoever.

"Sir…" he began timidly, but bravely one more time, "according to a passerby, a lightning hit the house and somehow it caught fire." The man took a deep breath and Dean listened intently to every single word, deep inside knowing exactly what the man would say, but most of him was still denying every intuition, every word, every look he was getting from Sam, the officer and other workers who had noticed the commotion. "Your… your family… they were sleeping when it all happened. And then it just… it was too late. There was nothing that could be- I'm so sorry, sir," finished the man sincerely, but Dean was already walking past him, his face as blank as ever. His mind even blanker than it had been before.

Dean's legs were failing him, but he didn't notice. He kept walking in silence, unaware of the looks, unaware of Sammy's voice, who kept trying to call him back. He walked slowly for what seemed like hours past vehicles of all kinds, past blurry faces and finally past guilt-ridden paramedics. He noticed the tire of the ambulance was crashing his wife's favorite flowers. _Nacha's gonna have their asses_, he thought again.

He looked everywhere, noticed every detail of everything, because his eyes refused to land on the most obvious spot. They refused to focus on what was surrounded by people, perfect strangers who gave him morose glances as if they knew him. _Pathetic_, he couldn't help thinking. He looked everywhere for Nacha and looked everywhere for Andrew, the only faces his tired eyes would focus on.

But they weren't walking around like the other people.

"Dean?" muttered Sammy. God, he sounded younger than Andrew. 'What is it, Sammy?' he wanted to ask, but no sound left his mouth. Instead, he simply opened and closed it again. "Dean, look at me," he said soothingly and pleading at the same time. Dean obeyed the voice he could never refuse and realized Sammy was sad. He had tears in his eyes. Tears that shouldn't be there. What had he done this time to make Sammy cry?

Although Sam said nothing, Dean knew the younger man was silently begging him to accept reality. And so Dean dared look down at the floor, a few feet away from them.

There were two shapes on the floor. They were covered by something that looked like plastic. One of them was the size of an adult. The other one, the size of a child. Not even a child, because that brought to mind a growing ten year-old. The size of that particular shape was that of a toddler, of a tiny little person who had barely just learned to walk, who had just started to live.

Dean shook his head slowly from side to side. This was ridiculous. People didn't just lie down under a piece of plastic and let others stare at them. Then, what was under the material? Probably nothing important, but he had to see for himself.

He stepped forward and dropped on his knees next to the larger shape. He extended a shaky hand hesitantly towards it, but before he could even touch the sheet, someone had laid a gentle hand on his right shoulder. Although that didn't physically stop the motion, something in that touch convinced him to stop anyway. He looked up at Sam's meaningful but innocent eyes and suddenly, everything dawned on him as hard as a bullet, and much worse.

He didn't notice how his whole body began shaking uncontrollably or how much more difficultit itwas becoming to breathe. He tried breathing harder, but the sobs were making him choke. Sam tried to hold him to stop his shaking, but Dean tried to push him away with all his strength.

But his little brother wouldn't budge and he was holding him tight. Dean began realizing how comforting the touch was and how much he needed it. He let his body relax to it, which made him experience something he didn't remember ever doing.

Crying.

Dean cried and let everything out on his brother's shoulder. He cried desperately and felt how wet Sam's shirt felt under his eyes and he wished he could just drown in his own tears. He kept crying because he couldn't control it and because he didn't care anymore. He didn't care that all those people were watching him; he didn't care about anything in the world because from one second to the next, the world had become a place that meant absolutely nothing to him.

His indifferent and careless body decided to give up before his shattered heart allowed it and finally the high fever and physical pain won the battle. Dean let his body fall completely on his brother's thinking that maybe, just maybe he wouldn't wake up again, or if he did, it would all have been a nightmare. But at the moment, door numberone seemed more attractive, since he had long ago learned that sometimes – no – most times in the Winchesters' life, nightmares are real.

**A/N: I am SO sorry! I know many of you really liked Nacha and little Andrew and I feel like a total bitch now lol… but think about it like this: it's just a fic! So please don't hate me too much, you can't say I didn't warn you! Thank you so much for all those wonderful reviews, you guys rock! I wish I could have made this whole thing happier without deaths and things, but I just couldn't: the chapter above was the original idea and it simply had to be that way. I'm so sorry, guys… please don't hurt me!**

**WARNING: **Yes, you have learned the hard way now to respect my warnings lol – **THE HORRIBLE HORRIBLE ANGST IS SOOOOO NOT OVER YET, SO GET READY TO SUFFER…. Well actually, not until a few more chapters, I think.**

_**Random Note: **I don't even have the heart to think of a random thing to say today lol… Ah… what have I got myself into?_


	9. Tired

**Disclaimer: **I love disclaimers so much, I could eat them.

**Chapter 9 - Tired**

Sam sat on his bed in a Holiday Inn hotel he found in Point Pleasant after he had managed to get himself and Dean out of what had once been Dean's home. Sam's head rested on his palm and occasionally he lifted it just so that he could chew on his nails as he tried to organize his thoughts.

The 'accident' had definitely been the work of the Mothman. Again, it had made it all appear a somewhat unusual, although explainable accident. But this Mothman was better than the one in the legends, the one John and Dean had killed. It was smart. It didn't let itself be seen and it had proven to be able to control the weather by making the house be hit by lightning, which was power beyond anything Sam had ever seen before.

He tried not to think of Nacha and Andrew as personal losses, since he needed to be strong for Dean now. The sorrow he felt for his nephew and sister-in-law, although great, was probably nothing compared to what Dean was feeling right now. And so he saved that one thought for another time.

His main worry at the moment was Dean. Exactly thirteen hours had passed since Sam had laid his brother down on the bed opposite him and the eldest hadn't even changed position. Hell, he hadn't even moved a finger. Nothing. He had just slept, his heartbeats even and clear, but his breathing was forced and loud. Too loud. In fact, sometimes it sounded like sobs, as if even in his dreams he continued crying his heart out.

And it was as if all that rest was doing nothing for Dean. The fever had reached an alarmingly high point and Sam was considering calling and ambulance, but he also knew how much Dean hated hospitals and with all that had happened, he thought it wouldn't do him much good.

He thought of trying to wake him up. But then, what if Dean didn't _want _to be woken up? He wondered if maybe a grieving mind could somehow control its body to weaken itself in order to avoid all that emotional pain. What if a broken heart could break a mind and then the entire body? No, Sam couldn't and wouldn't allow that. He carefully kneeled beside Dean and shook him gently.

"Hey, Dean, wake up, big bro," he tried soothingly, using words to remind Dean of their past as a hunting family, which now didn't look as dark as it once had. "You've slept long enough, c'mon."

The moment darkness claimed him, Dean had prayed for it to take him forever. To take him to his wife and son and end the nightmare once and for all. He remained in that comforting darkness, unable to wake up. And even if he had been able to, he wouldn't have tried. He would have remained with his eyes shut until he died of starvation or until someone thought he was dead and buried him alive. He didn't care if that even made sense, all he wanted was to die.

What about Sammy? Well, he was doing fine on his own; he always had. He didn't need Dean as much as Dean needed him. The words reminded him of the first time they had encountered the demon that killed his mother and in his unconsciousness, he relived his father's, - no, the demon's – words. _They don't need you. Not like you need them. _

_So true, _he thought bitterly. The moment he had let Sam go back to his normal life, the kid had become much happier. He was now successful and the brood that seemed to follow him everywhere in their hunting days had disappeared completely. And his father? Dean had done everything he asked him to in order to kill the demon, but Dean was sure Sam and John would have been perfectly fine without him and would have succeeded anyway.

So why couldn't he just die? There was nothing left for him to do, no one left for him to protect, didn't he deserve to rest? He was so tired, he had been tired since he was four and had found temporary rest after about twenty-five long years of tiredness. And that rest, that perfection had been taken away only three short years later.

Dean felt someone shaking him slightly, as Andrew used to do every Friday morning. Dean's heart skipped a beat. Maybe it had all been a horrible dream and maybe it was Friday morning now and Andrew was trying to wake him up to go read Uncle Sam's email.

Maybe he was getting a second chance to change what he had done. Maybe he would wake up to Andrew waking him up and Nacha bringing eggs and bacon for herself and toast with jam for him. Maybe he was being given an opportunity to stay with them this time and protect them, like he should have done before. Sammy would need to be saved too, but because he was being given a second chance, he would figure out how to keep everyone safe.

With renewed urges to wake up, he forced his eyelids to open, though they felt too warm, sore and heavy. Although he managed the task, his eyes didn't see much, frustrating him. He desperately needed to know if the person waking him up was his little Andrew.

"Andrew?"

Sam stopped shaking Dean immediately at hearing the weak whisper that left his brother's fevered lips. His eyes filled with tears, knowing that he was about to cause Dean the greatest and most painful disappointment. He considered letting him shift back into unconsciousness in order to avoid it. He was scared Dean in this condition wouldn't be able to take it. However, Dean looked only too eager to find out who was trying to wake him up, which doubled Sam's pain.

"N- No, Dean, it's me, Sam."

Dean blinked a few times, trying to focus on his face and when his sight confirmed that he hadn't heard wrong, he said nothing and directed his eyes to the ceiling, understanding.

Nervous at Dean's lack of response, Sam tried to explain possible questions going through Dean's mind. Or that _would _be going through his mind, had he cared about anything other than his all too resent loss.

"We're in a Holiday Inn hotel… still in Point Pleasant. I managed to convince the paramedics that I'd take care of you… well actually I sort of ran before they could stop me, I know a hospital wouldn't have exactly been your choice," he said quickly with a nervous laugh. Dean actually spared him a glance at that and gave him an almost imperceptible smile before returning his empty hazel green gaze to the ceiling.

"I woke you up 'cause you really need something for that fever, okay? I got you some pills…" he said producing a box of prescription tablets and taking two yellow pills in his hand. "I'll just get some water. After you take them you can go back to sleep, okay?"

As he walked to the bathroom, Sam felt like he had been talking to a five year-old. Like he couldn't raise his voice too much, because he would scare Dean, or like a harder tone could make his brother cry.

Maybe that was exactly why he was treating him so carefully, he thought as he held a glass under the stream of cold water in the sink. Because he had seen his invincible older brother, his protector and the man he admired the most, breaking before his own eyes, crying helplessly, depending on Sam to make all the evil go away. And Sam didn't know how to deal with it, so he did his best for it not to happen again.

He was also insecure because he had no idea what Dean could possibly be going through at the moment. When Jessica was killed, Sam had thought it was the end of the world. He had thought there could be nothing worse than losing her. But now Sam knew better.

Losing the love of his life and his only son, who hadn't even had the chance to go to kindergarten, was something Sam couldn't even begin to relate to.

Everybody imagines Hell in a different way. Some think it's eternal physical torture. Others say it's a place where there is no God. A few even think it is the eternal repetition of an immoral obsession practiced in life, until the soul begins to hate it. Sam had never really thought of what Hell could be like; he belonged to the group that preferred not to think of it, that preferred not to know. However, he did know that Dean was probably going through the worst kind of Hell anyone could ever think of.

And he was living it on Earth.

He went back to kneel next to Dean, who was still looking at the ceiling, mute.

"Can you sit up, Dean?"

The man in question blinked as all answer. After a few seconds he tilted his head and blinked again at Sam, as if only then realizing he wasn't alone. With shaky arms, he pushed himself to a sitting position and took the pills and the glass of water off his brother's offering hands and swallowed them automatically, before lying back down.

"Dean, we're gonna find this son of a bitch and we're gonna kill it okay? I promise," Sam said, making an attempt at cheering him up at least a little. To his surprise, Dean looked at him and smiled with sad eyes. It was a smile he only saved for his little brother. A smile that clearly said 'you're far too young to understand.'

Even though Dean was only four years older, sometimes he could make Sam feel that he had about a hundred years of experience to catch up with.

"What for, Sammy?"

"What do you mean 'what for,' Dean! You know as well as I do that was no electric storm. It was that damn demon, we _have _to kill it!" He spat before he could help himself. Sam was terrified for a moment that he had been too direct too soon, but Dean didn't even flinch. In fact, the smile seemed to become even wider. Anyone other than Sam would have thought Dean was amused.

"Sam, revenge won't bring them back; it only makes you angry and it builds up hatred – it makes you forget everything else. Plus, I promised Nacha I'd never hunt again after I was sure you were safe and I am pretty sure of that now and I'm not gonna break that promise."

"Dean-"

"Sam, just go back to New York, okay? Go back to Kirsten. I'll be fine."

"Oh yeah? By letting that thing come for you next? Your plan is to let it kill you too, isn't it?"

Dean glared at him but didn't reply. Sometimes Sam could read him like a book. But then again, in this situation, who couldn't?

"Dean, then don't do it for revenge. Do it for all the other people that could be hurt by it, like you always have."

"Exactly, that's what I did when I hunted and Nacha doesn't want me to do it anymore, Sam."

"But, I guess she would want you to go on, right?" he said in a much softer tone, "this thing wants _you, _Dean. It will come for you and you need to be ready to defend yourself and kill it. Nacha would have never wanted to see it hurt you."

"And… and neither would Andrew," muttered Dean remembering his son's innocent words about his jacket. Sam saw the tears in Dean's eyes and decided it had been enough for one conversation. He felt a pang of guilt, remembering how supportive Dean had been when Jess had died. Dean had done everything he had asked without question, even if he thought it wasn't a good idea. He hadn't even mentioned Jess unless Sam started the conversation. Now Sam wondered if he was doing the right thing by pushing Dean against this demon.

"Sleep now," he said finally, ignoring the slow wet trace one lonely tear left on his brother's face, as if it didn't make him feel like crying himself. He looked away when he saw Dean biting his lower lip to keep himself from breaking down again. It wasn't like Sam was ashamed, but he knew Dean needed some privacy.

His brother had never liked being pitied.

For the next three days Sam had to wake up Dean if he wanted to see any of him. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of his body. With the high fever and general physical exhaustion, it was quite understandable, though.

But what worried Sam is that no matter how high the fever was, Dean had never let it slow him down for such a long time before. Even when they were little, the time when they both had chicken pox, Dean being 10 and Sam 6, Dean had taken care of both of them almost without any problems, ignoring his own fever and itchiness while their father hunted some dark creature in some dark place.

Sam had to force food and water down his throat and those short few hours that he stayed awake, he hardly said anything. No witty remark, no cocky smile, not even a wink. Nothing. Sam wondered if his brother would ever be the same again.

Because he knew he had never been the same after Jessica, and he never would be.

**A/N: Ahh… so angsty… oh well it just came out that way lol… hope you liked this chapter… it's kind of a useless-but-necessary-anyway kinda chapter… but anyway I'll try to get into the action rather soon. Thank you guys so much for your reviews… I'm so glad you still like my story even after I killed my beautiful original characters lol they were cool… **

_**Random Note: **yes! Spanish exam tomorrow. And then three more Spanish exams on Friday. Funny how it works. Why is one of the exams isolated? No idea. Maybe it was the rejected one. Anyway, my point obviously being I'm only too lucky to have these exams :( Hope it goes better than my French haha…_


	10. Back to Work

**Disclaimer: **I own some dead girl yaaaayy!

**Chapter 10 – Back to Work**

"We need to come up with a plan, Dean," ventured Sam a week after the funeral. He sat on his bed, his laptop resting on his lap. Dean was getting dressed in the bathroom in the same hotel room they had checked into the day after arriving in Point Pleasant.

The funeral had been a small ceremony, with the Winchester brothers, a few family friends and Nacha's family. Her parents' grief made Dean's guilt increase even more, but guilt was the one negative emotion that had moved to the background as his own grief, shock and the realization that he would never see his beloved wife and his little Andrew again overwhelmed his heart. He had watched the coffins being lowered to the ground and he almost couldn't bear it.

Dean hadn't said a word nor shed one tear since.

Sam had stayed with him, promising to stick around until they killed the Mothman and Dean truly appreciated it. He did, but he couldn't show it as he would have liked. The grief was starting to control his actions, making him depend on Sam and Dean had always hated to depend on anyone, especially on his little brother. And so he tried to help himself for Sam.

Dean knew he was becoming a burden to his brother. He tried to help Sam, he really did. He tried to smile as much as he could whenever Sam tried a joke or a casual comment, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He tried to help with the research, but somehow he felt that it would be useless, and he didn't have the energy to surf the web endlessly like his brother.

Something he did manage to do was recover. The fever had finally gone away for good and his left shoulder was healing nicely. This seemed to have lifted Sam's mood considerably, making it easier for Dean to cooperate. However, he still had trouble keeping up with the world around him, often shutting himself down in his own mind.

"Dean," insisted Sam gently, pulling him out of his thoughts. He walked out of the bathroom, his hair still wet after the shower. He sat down on his own bed facing Sam and looked at him solemnly, aware of the words Sam had uttered before. Dean knew he was right. They needed a plan and they _would_ come up with one, but it's just that nothing seemed to be worth trying anymore… he noticed Sam was hesitating, unsure if he should bring up the topic.

"I… I don't know why the damn thing hasn't attacked yet, but we need to be ready. What if it's planning something big? We _need_ to have a plan."

Dean didn't really know why, but the fact that Sam had started talking business again brought him back slightly from his world of gloom. Any conversation about a hunt had been so normal between the brothers once upon a time that it brought back memories of happier times, and Dean mustered the strength to speak again, if only for the sake of the hunt.

"Maybe," Dean cleared his throat. His voice sounded foreign and dry, he hadn't used it in so long. "Maybe it doesn't want me, maybe it already accomplished what it wanted."

"Do you believe that?" asked Sam incredulously, although Dean didn't fail to notice the small spark in his brother's eyes at hearing him speak again. Dean shrugged indifferently as all answer to his question.

"How exactly did you and dad kill the Mothman last time?"

"I told you, we used machetes and chopped its head off."

"Yeah, but I mean what did you do to actually catch it?"

Dean sighed and searched his memory for a few seconds before answering. He straightened up and fixed his eyes on Sam, his mind finally setting on getting back to work.

"The Mothman always stands near whatever it's making cause destruction. So we figured the only way to kill it would be by using one of us as bait and waiting until it showed up. While the Mothman watched whatever it was controlling attempt to kill the bait, the other crept up behind it and beheaded it. It wasn't easy back then; when we did it, we had some back up… Caleb used to live around here, remember?"

"Yeah, was he the bait?"

"No, I was. Dad had told him to stay around just in case, so when the Mothman realized dad was about to chop its head off, it tried to attack him but Caleb came out of nowhere with a machete and killed it."

"And where were you?"

"Fighting a bear."

Sam frowned in confusion and sat a little straighter. Dean realized he had sounded out of context, but hadn't he talked enough already for one day?

"The Mothman was controlling it," he explained.

"So this thing can control animals without possessing them?" asked Sam alarmed. Dean nodded calmly.

"That one could. Imagine what this one's capable of."

"Damn…"

"Hm, yeah."

"You don't seem too concerned," commented Sam trying to sound casual, when he was actually quite worried. The lack of any kind of emotion was unnatural and Sam hoped this stage would pass soon. He feared that during the hunt Dean would take far more risks than necessary just because he didn't seem to care about anything anymore.

"Well, we just have to kill it in the same way, only this time there's no back up. One will be the bait and the other will kill it."

Sam sighed but nodded anyway, even though he noticed Dean had avoided saying who would play which role.

"Yeah, okay. Anyway, I found out where we're likely to find it. It says here," he said looking back at the laptop, "that the Mothman has always lived in forested areas, where it is surrounded by beings it can control and also plenty of places to hide. But I couldn't find where exactly it lives, though."

"We might find it in the same place dad and I found the other one."

"That'd be a good place to start, I guess…"

* * *

Dean stopped the car at a safe distance from the forest line. Both brothers stepped out of the car and instinctively made their way to the trunk where all the weapons were stored. Dean opened the door and took out the EMF meter, two machetes and a loaded pistol just in case. He gave one machete to Sam and kept the other one to himself as he tucked the gun in his jeans and the EMF in his jacket pocket. This ritual made Sam feel like they had never stopped hunting. Everything seemed so natural; so much that if the car had still been the Impala, Sam would have had difficulty convincing himself that about five years had passed since each brother had gone on his own way. 

"Okay," said Dean closing the trunk, once again taking the lead, for hunting was what he did best. "At the first sign of its presence you have to hide as best as you can. I'll be the bait 'cause we already know it wants to kill me anyway. You see the son of a bitch, you kill it."

"What about you, we don't know what this thing's capable of controlling, what if you can't defend yourself?"

"I'll manage-"

"Dean, I'm serious."

"So am I, Sam, I'll manage. You just worry about killing it, okay? I don't want you to worry about me 'cause that will just get us both killed. C'mon let's start walking."

"Wait, it's like 10.30 in the morning, are we gonna find it this early?"

"Probably. Last time we killed it at noon… the Mothman doesn't really have preferences of time like other creatures."

They walked determinedly towards the forest, Dean holding out the EMF meter, which gave him no readings as the trees came closer. The small object reminded him of the night he had spent by Andrew's closet, fearing the presence of a supernatural creature, only to find a dysfunctional toy. He shook the once amusing memory away. _Concentrate; just don't think about anything else._

More and more trees began appearing at either side of them as they walked deeper into the forest. The bright sunlight filtered through the leaves and branches easily still, although it wasn't as bright anymore as it had been out in the open. The EMF remained silent as the path underneath them became dried leaves and the sound of birds and crickets became louder.

"Do you know where we're going?" asked Sam wondering if a demon could possibly live in such a beautiful place without turning it into chaos.

"Yeah, we'll be there in about an hour if nothing has changed since-"

Suddenly, the lifeless EMF shone bright red as all its tiny light bulbs lighted up as a high-pitched noise filled the peace of the day. Dean unconsciously stepped in front of Sam, pushing his little brother back slightly, as he stared straight ahead.

There seemed to be an unusually bright light ahead and Sam forced his eyes to look at it to try to make out a shape. It was human.

"The girl!" said both together referring to the ghost of Averill Park.

And neither had rock salt. _How could I let this happen, _wondered Dean as he realized it was the third time the girl caught him off guard. Both Sam and Dean knew this was no friendly ghost, which meant they were in real trouble now that they had absolutely nothing to protect them against ghosts.

Dean stepped fully in front of Sam and waited.

They remained in that position for seconds that could have been hours, but nothing happened. The girl kept staring at them, giving out that incredible light that blinded them.

"I thought these things only came out at night!" Dean heard Sam shout from behind him. Only then did he realize why she looked so bright. It was because of the daylight. Whenever they saw ghosts it had always been at night, where there was no more light than that coming from the spirit. Now, in the bright morning, the sunlight seemed to reflect on her, making her unnatural light twice as bright.

"Yeah, well I don't think she agrees with you," he replied finally, unable to take his eyes off her. Why wasn't she attacking them? She didn't even seem angry. She simply hovered there, her red hair covering her sad face, which looked as disfigured as ever, but not threatening as it had before. She moved her arm slightly and Dean pushed Sam back unconsciously, but all she did was a small motion with her hand, as if asking them to follow her. Then, she moved without walking out of the path and into the forest.

"C'mon," said Dean and began to follow her, but Sam grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, Dean, it could be a trap," he whispered urgently, but Dean seemed impatient, not wanting to lose track of her.

"So? Trap or no trap, she'll still take us to wherever this thing lives, which is exactly where we need to go." He jerked his arm away from Sam and walked on, Sam at his heel.

**A/N: Finally sort of nearing the climax of the story lol… or at least starting to approach it. Thank you guys so much for all the reviews they really do keep me writing! Sorry for taking my time to update, but with school and exams and things it's a little harder now… so thanks for all your support, I'm so glad you guys are liking this :) Thank you!**

_**Random Note: **Wow this has gotta be the first chapter where Dean's not hurt at all! Ah, don't worry, he'll be in pain soon enough probably… hahaha sorry but there's nothing like a heroically hurt Dean! _


	11. The Mothman

**Disclaimer: **I own this disclaimer.

**WARNING: **SOME SERIOUSLY HORRIBLE ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER, YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LIKE IT, DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.

**Chapter 11 – The Mothman**

The day had come and gone, the bright sunlight giving way to the darker red light the afternoon provided. And still they walked behind the spirit of the girl, who's light became dimmer as the day grew darker.

"You do realize she could just be misleading us, right?" said Sam agitatedly in his brother's ear. "What if she's taking us further away to fall right into the demon's trap?"

Dean had already considered that and so he didn't reply. Even if it proved to be a trap, he wasn't too worried; whatever happened he would protect Sam at all costs, and a safe Sam meant a calm Dean. Especially now that there was no one else left for him to protect.

"I doubt it," he said finally, "look around you."

Dean had noticed their surroundings had suddenly changed. Although by now they were probably at the heart of the forest, there were less trees and their leaves were as few as they would be in winter. The tree trunks were much darker in this area and a dirty, unhealthy fog engulfed the zone. Dean had the feeling that unless guided to this place by the supernatural, no mortal would be able to find it, as if it belonged to another dimension.

Sam fell silent as he realized this and he tried to listen intently to any sign of life. He thought the place would be as lifeless as a desert if a demon was residing here and so he was surprised to find crows watching them from branches. Sam also heard the cry of a wolf in the distance and he could hear crickets and other nocturne insects singing loudly all around him.

"It could just be that there was a fire here… there are animals still living around, Dean."

"Nah, it looks exactly like the place where the other one lived. It needs living things to make them attack unwelcome visitors, remember? I think we're entering its lair."

The ghost stopped all of a sudden, causing Dean to almost walk right into – or through – her. She faced them and smiled sadly before vanishing completely.

"Great," said Dean after a moment of expectant silence, "now what?"

Sam shrugged and shook his head giving him an almost apologetic smile.

"I guess we could just keep walking around here until it decides to come out," tried Sam, out of ideas.

"Yeah… but we stick together, got it? Damn fog…"

They walked in silence for a few minutes, their eyes and ears expecting to catch even the slightest sign of an otherworldly creature, although eyes wouldn't do them much good in the fog. Both were relying on their hearing so much that they were surprised when it was their nose that alerted them. The smell of death and rotten flesh invaded their nostrils right before all remaining daylight disappeared. Suddenly the fog was gone, allowing them to see their surroundings properly. Dean's eyes frantically looked for the creature; with the corner of the eye he managed to see a large black wing slip behind a tree and vanish almost instantly.

"Sam," he whispered almost inaudibly, "I just saw it, it's hiding behind that tree." Dean made the tiniest motion with his head pointing at a large oak tree a few meters in front of him. "I want you to hide now as out of its way and as far away from it as possible and slowly, making no sound make your way until you're standing behind it and then you know what to do." He knew that was exactly what his father would have done, but unlike that time, Dean wouldn't let the creature surprise his little brother.

He felt Sam move behind him and disappear amongst the darkest and largest trees that still remained in this cursed area of the forest. Dean on the other hand moved closer to where he knew the creature was, in plain view.

"I'm here you freak, what the hell you waiting for?" he said at the top of his voice, praying for the thing to notice him and not Sam, "you've taken everything from me, why can't you just get it over with?" he continued his broken voice full of hatred and sorrow. But what he had said wasn't true and deep inside he knew it. The Mothman hadn't taken Sammy away and there was no way he would let it.

Nothing happened for a while, but he didn't dare move. He watched where he thought Sam should be by now and managed to see his brother's silhouette expertly moving as quiet as their surroundings, almost blending with them, moving like them. And then he heard it. What sounded like a minuscule twig broke a few steps behind Sam. Dean looked at the oak tree and back at where Sam was supposed to be and he gasped as he realized his mistake before running like a bat out of hell for his brother.

* * *

Sam heard Dean's words as clearly as the creature should have. The shout shocked him and he felt his heart heavy. They had always used this technique to distract anything or anyone away from what really mattered. They had used it on the Wendigo, the shapeshifter, the Shtriga, hell they had even used it on the demon and it rarely failed. Sometimes it was a simple 'hey!' to get its attention while sometimes it was whole sentences. It was the words Dean had picked this time that struck Sam. He tried not to take it personally, after all, they needed the distraction and Dean was overcome with grief; he hadn't meant those words, he just needed them out of his chest. Sam hoped that was all.

He sighed and focused on the red oak tree that was coming closer and closer. The creature, however, was nowhere to be seen and Sam thought of getting out of his hideout to tell his brother it had vanished, but as he decided to get a little closer to be sure of its absence, he failed to notice a tiny crack behind him.

* * *

Dean walked as quickly as he could without making the dry leaves under his feet announce his presence. He spotted Sam still walking towards his goal, but apart from him there seemed to be nothing around. And then he heard it again, further from Sam this time, but he decided to follow it, all the while keeping an eye on Sam, who still moved towards the tree. By now Dean was quite sure the creature had never been hiding there; it purposely made Dean see what he would think was the creature in order to attack them from where they least expected. But it had made a mistake and now it would pay for it. If he managed to find the damned thing, that is.

Suddenly he felt like a thousand needles were stabbing his right ankle. He looked down to see that a vine covered in long and thick thorns had wrapped tightly around his ankle right before it was pulled under his weight making him lose his balance and fall hard on the ground. Dean felt himself being pulled violently deeper into the forest, but before long the vine became motionless, although it still kept a strong grip of his ankle and no matter how hard he fought, what had once been a simple plant wouldn't let go of his leg.

The vine rose unexpectedly, fast and strong, and using Dean like the head of a whip, it slammed him against the nearest tree, dislocating his right knee and breaking his ankle before his body had even touched the tree. When it did, Dean found himself thinking he was lucky his head hadn't even come close to the impossibly hard surface. His torso, however, hit the tree straight on and Dean felt his ribs on fire as his head jerked backwards, his neck snapping.

Apparently conformed with its work, the vine let him fall on the floor as it unwrapped itself off Dean's bloody ankle and disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Dean could do nothing but lay there, barely able to breathe and only too aware of the pain that cursed through his body. He hoped unconsciousness would come soon, but his mind felt strangely clear, his head being the only intact part of his body. He knew he would stay awake for a while, and he might as well use the time. After all, he had to kill the Mothman and get Sam out of this place.

Dean pushed himself up with his arms and his left leg, careful not to move his neck but he fell back on his broken and cracked ribs almost immediately and he let out a frustrated cry of pain.

The world went cold and Dean felt something near him. He looked up, careful not to move his neck and managed to see the damned devil standing in front of him. He had never seen the Mothman this close and although Dean would never admit it, the sight of it was terrifying and he wished his heart would calm down. Its skin was a dark scaly gray that contrasted its hypnotic red eyes, which now smiled down at Dean, emotionless.

However, he felt a glimmer of hope when he saw Sam behind it, his machete raised above his shoulder, like a baseball bat, his eyes determinedly set on the creature's unsuspecting neck.

With a motion of its large and putrid hand, he made Dean stand up to face him. He felt his body rise against his will and all his broken bones scream in protest. Dean suppressed a cry, not wanting to distract Sam, who moved another silent step forward towards the creature.

The Mothman gave Dean time to support his own weight before lowering its hand, ceasing the control it had over the hunter, probably to torture him in ways only demons knew.

Dean saw something behind Sam. Something moving incredibly fast toward his brother, who was concentrating too hard to notice anything other than the monster in front of him. As it came closer, Dean realized it was a thick, sharp branch the Mothman was no doubt controlling. It knew Sam was behind it. If he didn't get Sam out of the way, it would stab him right through his abdomen.

Without thinking, Dean took out his gun, which he knew was useless against this demon, but shot at it anyway. Using the small distraction, he ran towards Sam before the demon knew what was happening. He didn't feel his wounds, as all his mind could think of was saving his Sammy from what would definitely kill his brother unless he interfered.

He pushed Sam as hard as he could, but before he could follow, he felt the same vine that had taken him down before wrap around his neck and arms holding him straight up and not a second later, he saw more than felt the deadly branch pierce the middle of his chest and come out of his back as easily as if his body had been as thin and fragile as a sheet of paper.

Dean gasped at the impact although he felt no pain. He expected to fall on the ground right after, but the long, thick branch remained in place and held him up, even though the vines had once again released him, leaving limp and bloody wrists and a bleeding neck.

* * *

When Sam realized what his brother had just saved him from, he wasted no time and without looking back, he stood up and decapitated the Mothman before it had time to react. He watched its head roll on the ground as its body disintegrated into dust and then its head followed, leaving no trace of the monster that had caused Dean so much pain. He allowed himself to smile.

"Dean, it's done! We finally did it," he exclaimed happily, his smile widening. He got no response and so he turned around but what he saw left him speechless. The smile faded completely and his body wouldn't respond as he watched Dean pinned upright, his chest pierced by a bloodied branch. Sam remained motionless until his brother slowly moved his head up to see him. He was still conscious.

Dean smiled at him weakly.

"Well done, Sammy," he said, his voice almost as strong as it would be, were he completely healthy. "Hey, it's okay," he added, "it doesn't hurt, that's a good thing, right?"

His breathing was becoming weaker and Sam knew the only reason Dean couldn't feel pain was because he was far too hurt and in self-defense, his body had gone numb.

"Dean… no, no, no," he muttered walking up to him, panic evident in his eyes and voice. "Okay… okay," he said calming himself down. "I'm gonna cut the branch at both sides and then I'll take you to a hospital, okay? Whatever you do, just don't try to pull the branch out, okay? You're gonna be fine," he said and forced a smile for his brother. "So… what do you wanna do after this is all over? We'll do anything you want, okay?" he asked, trying to keep Dean talking for as long as possible.

"How about you go back to New York and marry that girl of yours, huh?"

"Dean, this is about you, not me, alright?" he said as with his machete, he cut the side that came out of his brother's back, the side of the branch covered in his brother's blood. He fought back tears as he moved on to the side where it had penetrated. He was now standing close to Dean's face and he could feel those hazel green eyes watching him and he looked back to face the smiling eyes.

"I'll be in that wedding, obviously, what did you expect?" Sam let out a chuckle that sounded more like a sob to him and went back to cutting the branch. "Hey, Sam…"

Sam looked up again, slowly this time, avoiding Dean's eyes, scared to see in there what Sam knew he was about to hear. Dean was saying good-bye.

"Sam… look at me, Sammy…" his brother obeyed. "What I said before… what I shouted, that thing about the demon having taken everything from me… it's not true and you know it, right?" Sam nodded, a couple of tears sliding down his cheeks, "because you're the most important person in my life and you always have been since the day you were born, and you know that too… right?" he asked again, and once again all Sam could do was nod. "If I hadn't done what I did it would have taken you too… and after all that's happened… Nacha, An-Andrew," he said gulping at the memory of his family, "I couldn't go on if anything happened to you too… but you should know that… I… I didn't mean to get myself killed-,"

"You're not dead, Dean and you're not dying," interrupted Sam, unable to take his teary eyes off his brother's gentle and resigned stare.

"-I actually intended to save myself after I knew you were out of the way but… the vines… I didn't know… I didn't see them- just… please don't hate me for what I did- it was selfish, I know, but please try to understand… just don't-"

But his words were cut short and he gasped loudly as when they least expected it, the branch pulled back at tremendous speed, leaving Dean on his feet for a few seconds before he collapsed on his brother's arms, his blood spilling everywhere faster than Sam thought possible.

"DEAN!" shouted Sam, trying to put pressure on the wound in order to stop the bleeding. He knew it was useless, but he just couldn't accept the fact that his brother was dying in his arms. "Dean, no… please, stay with me," he begged tears falling freely down his cheeks now. His once invincible brother did his best to fix his eyes on Sam one last time and he smiled reassuringly, before his hazel green eyes unfocused completely. "Dean! Dean, c'mon," he said again, no longer pressing the wound, but hugging his brother as he kept muttering encouraging words in his ear as if that would bring him back.

Sam stayed that way, holding Dean close to him, one hand around his shoulders and the other gently stroking his short blonde hair, sustaining the weight of his head with loving care. He squeezed him one last time before softly moving Dean's head away from him in order to close his eyes. Once he did, he noticed how peaceful Dean looked. He had a small smile on his face and his closed eyes seemed at peace with the world, as if he had fallen asleep after a successful day's work.

Sam wiped his tears and smiled sadly, knowing that was exactly what had happened to Dean, only he would wake up in a better place and he would have his family back. He took his all-time hero carefully in his arms and somehow found his way out of the forest as the sun began to light up another bright morning in Point Pleasant.

**END**

**A/N: Okay before you kill me, let me say the usual: thanks SO much for your awesome reviews! It's hard to believe I've actually reached more than 100 with this story, you guys are great. Sorry for having taken so long to post this, but school was sort of crazy last week and then Friday night was wilder than I thought it would be, which obviously means my head wasn't up for writing on Saturday if you know what I mean LOL! Now, about this horrible, horrible ending: remember it's just my fic- not real, hasn't happened and will probably never happen cuz if it did, they'd have to end the sow lol… and second, I thought letting him die was the fairest thing to do for the poor guy… **

**THERE IS STILL AN EPILOGUE COMING so this story isn't complete yet…**

_**Random Note: **Grey's Anatomy is too addictive for its own good. Especially because it's not even that great! Now I'm totally hooked just because it's so damn addictive…_


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"_Daddy, wake up!"_

_Dean tried to ignore the sweet, innocent and childish voice, knowing he was dreaming. His mind still had trouble believing what had happened to his family and he was almost used to it. Almost._

_Ignoring the pain he knew he would feel when he woke up and saw that he was still in a hotel, he forced himself to open his eyes so that Sammy wouldn't worry. But before he could begin making his eyelids obey, he felt a slim, delicate hand stroking his cheek._

_It was that touch. A touch he had missed so much he was hardly able to sleep at night knowing he would never feel it again. But it was here now, he was sure of it. Dean would recognize those long, tanned fingers anywhere._

_Dean opened his green eyes to the two gazes that awaited him patiently; smiling and welcoming him back._

_She was kneeling next to their bed, the hands he had recognized before laid gently on their son's little shoulders. The toddler's wide green eyes seemed to spark when Dean reflected those same eyes at him and Andrew threw himself in his father's arms._

"_I missed you, daddy" he said in Dean's ear._

* * *

Sam opened his eyes after saying a small prayer and looked down at the three marble stones at his feet. His dark eyes lingered on the name engraved on the stone directly in front of him. This name was adorned by a simple inscription that read in solemn and truthful words, _"Beloved husband, father and brother_._"_

Kneeling in front of the grave, Sam gently put a little bouquet of simple white flowers as he had done with the other two. A small but amused smile appeared on his face as he thought of how his brother would surely react to such a present. The smile quickly vanished with a great sigh as all sorts of memories of his older brother flooded into his mind.

Sam remembered that night as clearly as day. The night it had all ended. It had been almost a year since then and yet sometimes Sam felt as if it had just happened.

He had remembered his brother's wishes to help the poor unfortunate spirit of Averill Park and so a few days after the incident he had paid an expert team to retrieve the bones from the bottom of the pond and after paying a little extra, he managed to keep the bones without the authorities ever knowing about them. He burned the girl's bones that night and she was never sighted again.

Sam hadn't forgotten the older man's selfless death wish either, which he had expertly disguised as a joke. Again Sam smiled remembering the playful tone and the cocky smirk as he said, _how about you go back to New York and marry that girl of yours, huh?_

And Sam had all intention of doing as he had asked. He had taken a long time to feel completely safe with his decision, Jessica's death being still too present in his mind. Hadn't it all happened because he had wanted to ask her to marry him? But now the demon was gone, and nothing could ruin his life this time.

"Hey, big brother," he muttered smiling a little, "I came to tell you something you've wanted to hear for a while… I know I made you wait but…"

He put his hand in his pocket and took out a small object. As he held it out, the small crystalline rock reflected the bright sunlight, overshadowing the gold ring. He smirked practically hearing his brother replying something along the lines of 'Sam! It's beautiful, but I'm sorry, you're not really my type…'

"See this?" he continued, "that's right, I'm doing it tonight. I'll ask her to marry me, Dean."

**A/N: Thank God it's over! hahaha sorry it's just that I was sort of worried I wouldn't finish it before the end of the week cuz on Sunday I'm going on holidays for the whole summer, so yes: TGIOver. Now, thank you guys SO much for supporting me throughout this story, special thanks to all of you who kept reviewing chapter after chapter and even more special thanks to those who have read and reviewed this story because you read and reviewed my previous story, which I assume means you like my writing which is just like WOW lol... I honestly never expected much support when I started writing, so thank you so much! So basically all of you readers and reviewers have made me feel awesome so THANK YOU SO MUCH! Now I'm gonna go try to reply to all of you separately heh... good luck with that, me.**

_**Random Note: **I'm going to CHILE for the summer, how awesome and unusual is that :)_


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